Displays of Affection
by XerxesRises
Summary: Collection of one shots. Established relationship between Emma and Hook as they give it a go. Stories that are rated M will be listed in the chapter listings. Reviews are always welcome and encouraged!
1. Boot Laces and Flowers

One shots that will eventually be rated M.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my opinion.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: Boot Laces and Flowers<strong>

She wore a dirty and tattered boot lace around her left wrist. She never took it off and when he asked her the story behind it, she told him of the Huntsman, Graham. He supposed that he should have been jealous that there was a man before him that she cared deeply enough about to keep such a memento on her person at all times. He didn't. He was only grateful that the man had been strong enough to resist the Evil Queen's desire in the Enchanted Forest. If he hadn't, Emma Swan would never have been born.

The boot lace covered a tattoo of a flower. She explained that she'd gotten it when she and Neal were together. "I wasn't brave enough to get his name. Maybe I knew even then he wouldn't always be with me." There was such bitterness in her voice, even after all this time.

Wanting to remove the pain from her eyes, Hook slid his fingers lightly down her arm, stopping at the barrier that the boot lace created around her wrist. He pulled her hand up to his mouth, where he pressed a warm kiss into her palm, before pushing the worn boot lace up higher, baring the simple flower to his gaze. He traced the black outline of the petals with the barest of touches, watching as goosebumps rose on her skin. When he had finished his task, he pressed another kiss against the flower, feeling her pulse beat against his tongue as he brushed it over the black ink.

When he looked up into her eyes, the tears were gone, her gaze clear and hungry as she watched him. The best way to distract Emma Swan from the pain of her past, he thought to himself, was to remind her of the pleasure of her present.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	2. Food

**Chapter Two: Food**

Emma insisted on cooking on Sundays and having her family over for dinner. The problem was that she wasn't a very good cook. Gods bless her, but she did try, buying cookbooks and fancy tools for the kitchen that she had no clue how to use. Hook loved to watch as she ran from cookbook to bowl, stirring ingredients with gusto, and then scowling when another burned dish was pulled from the oven.

It was a good thing the littlest royal wasn't eating yet; Hook could barely get the food past his lips most of the time. He kept trying, though, as it seemed to mean so much to Emma that they eat her food. The smile that lit up her face as she glanced around the table at her family always managed to steal his breath. She looked so ecstatically happy that Hook would've gladly cut off his other hand to keep that breathtaking smile on her lips.

David and Mary Margaret took to bringing large portions of side dishes, which helped fill their stomachs as they each picked at the bland, burned and/or raw portions that Emma doled out on each of their plates. Hook had to admit that it was fun, sitting around the table with the Charmings, telling stories about the Enchanted Forest, watching as Emma sparkled and laughed at her end of the table with Henry. He occasionally held baby Neal, always with his hook carefully tucked away in his coat, picking out mannerisms that reminded him of his Swan in the tiny face. It was cozy and happy, but best of all, Emma was happy and content. Sometimes he just sat and watched her as she watched those around her, soaking up their happiness as if she was a sponge.

It was afterwards that he saw the sadness and loneliness seep into her eyes, especially on the nights when Henry went to Regina's to spend the week with his other mother. The quiet of her apartment after the gaiety seemed to strip her of her strength. She would mechanically clean up the dinner, wrinkling her nose in disgust as she pitched it all into the garbage. He tried to help her, but she would push him aside, murmuring something about his one-handed disability and the likelihood of him breaking her good dishes.

It took him a while to understand what it was that upset her so and when he finally figured it out, he wasn't sure how to address it with her. On the surface, it was the loneliness that was driving her anger and sadness, but Hook knew better. Emma was used to being alone and had accepted the solace of quiet long ago, much as he had. They both had a solitary nature at the core, loving the time with family and friends, but finding an inner peace when they were alone.

No, it was the food that brought the anger to the surface.

There was a time, before Liam had found him and just after his father had left, that food was hard to come by. It was all he thought about, all he longed for, some nights even more than he longed for his father. It had been centuries since he had been hungry like that, but some memories left scars so deep they never truly healed or were forgotten.

To be an adult was truly an amazing thing. Especially a strong adult who had the power to make sure that they would never be hungry again, whether that meant stealing or worse. To have power over your destiny was an intoxicating thing, more so for people like Emma and Hook who had no power as children. To make it worse, she continued to have no control over food even as an adult, the one thing that she had probably been denied almost as much as she had been denied love.

Ultimately, Hook decided that he had to help her find her power over food. It took a few weeks, but he stumbled upon an option when dining with Robin and Marion one night. Robin mentioned that Marion had taken a cooking class from Granny to learn how to use the new appliances in this world. That night, Hook asked Emma if she would take a cooking class with him, prefacing it with his desire to contribute to their Sunday night family dinners.

There was a pause and he hesitated to look up, afraid that she had seen through his flimsy excuse. The pause stretched and he made the quick decision to mix truth into his lie.

"Mostly, I don't mind."

"Mind what?" There was a warning edge to her voice that raised the hair on the back of his neck.

"Only having one hand." He took a breath, closing his eyes before turning to her. "But there are times when it makes things...complicated. I wanted to surprise you, love, and go on my own, but sometimes the complication holds me back."

She watched him and he watched her. Then she gave a curt nod, going back to cleaning up their latest Sunday night meal. Because she was an open book, he knew that she only half believed him, but he honestly wasn't sure which part she had believed and which part she hadn't.

Regardless, she came with him and they took a month's worth of classes together, which was all very domestic and relationship oriented, except that it wasn't. It was Emma's chance to learn and gain control over one more area of her life where previously she had little.

Sunday dinners turned into gourmet five-course meals that Emma solely prepared and orchestrated. Hook no longer watched a confused and frustrated cook bumbling through the kitchen, but a master chef.

She never mentioned what he had done when he asked her to go with him, but he often found her gaze on him during those family meals, lingering with clear affection. And afterwards, when it was just the two of them, there were no more shadows of frustration in her eyes as she cleaned up the empty plates.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	3. Dancing

**Chapter Three: Dancing**

She was a natural at dancing. He had discovered that while twirling her around King Midas's dance floor in her scarlet ball gown. But since returning to Storybrooke, they'd had very little reason to dance. Mere hours after arriving back on the dirt floor of Zalena's barn, frost and cold had surrounded them and any opportunity they might have had to sway together on a dance floor was quickly forgotten.

Hook liked to dance and he was good at it. It wasn't a skill he had found much opportunity to use after becoming a pirate; the captain of the _Jolly Roger _didn't really need to woo bar wenches with fancy footwork. The few times he had danced, it reminded him of his life with Liam, when honor and bravery had meant all the world to him. Anger had swelled within him to think of how naive he'd been as a young Lieutenant, before betrayal and death had broken his heart. After a time, he avoided dancing at all costs.

Dancing with Emma had brought all of it back. The memories of dancing at various balls as part of the King's Navy, stealing kisses from blushing young girls who wanted to wish him well on his next voyage. Ah, he'd been so full of himself then and so sure of his destiny. He had his whole life mapped out back then. He'd sail with his brother, finding glory and bringing back riches to his King. He'd find some beautiful girl to marry and have tons of little babies, retiring as an Admiral and living in a large house with a view of the sea.

It gave him pause to think of it all now and watch the path his life had actually taken. He'd come close to being happy with Milah, but that wasn't to be. Life was like dancing, really. There were the ebbs and flows of the music, the twirls and turns that left your heart pounding with the beat and movement. And just when you finally felt as if you were flying, it ended, leaving you bereft and alone once more.

He wasn't a man who was often melancholy. Whenever he felt his heart start to tend in that direction, he distracted himself with drink or adventure or women. But even for him, there were nights when he missed twirling a beautiful girl in his arms, swaying to music that was sweet and simple, while he spoke of battle glory and domestic simplicity in order to steal a kiss. He often wondered if Emma might want a man like that, a man like he used to be, before his heart had been broken and warped by pain.

It was on such a night that Emma found him, glaring down into a mug of frothy beer, trying like hell to ignore the ache in his limbs to be moving, dancing, twirling. She bumped her shoulder against his as she settled next to him, smelling like the autumn breeze was stitched into the seams of her leather jacket. There were beautiful red splotches of happiness blooming on her cheeks and Hook's whole body ached to have her look at him like she did when he taught her how to waltz.

He stared at her, drinking in her beauty and before she knew what he was about, he stood and held his hand out to her. She only paused for a moment, one lovely brow quirked in amusement, before placing her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet, leaning over to place a soft kiss on her knuckles and giving her his best dashing grin as he looked up at her from over her hand.

Emma caught her breath, biting down on her bottom lip as she looked at him in question. He stood, tugging on her hand as he pulled her out of the diner to stand under the stars. He wrapped his arm around her waist, placing her hand on the brace of his hook before pulling her closer to him and watching as her eyes flared at the contact of their bodies.

And then, he began to lead her around an imaginary dance floor in the courtyard of Granny's Diner as he hummed the tune that had played while they had danced at Midas's ball. It took her moment to catch the sound and when she did, she smiled at him, her head tilted softly to the side.

"You remember it?" He nodded to her, continuing to hum as he led her through the intricate steps of the waltz. Then, to his surprise, she began to hum with him, soft and a little unsure. He smiled at her in encouragement, pleasantly surprised that she remembered each intricate step of their waltz.

They danced and it was if they had never stopped, had never been interrupted in the Enchanted Forest. Hook felt the darkness of his mood slipping away as it often did when he held Emma Swan in his arms.

The small courtyard was soon too confining a space for the sweeping dance and he led them smoothly out onto the road. He didn't worry about cars; most of the town's inhabitants were currently watching them from the windows of Granny's Diner and along the sidewalk.

As Hook twirled her out into the street, he heard a marvelous giggle of happiness burst forth from Emma's throat. He loved that laugh. It gave him hope, made him happy, warmed his very soul. The tension that had invaded his body as he sat in Granny's, remembering days gone by, began to leave. His own hearty laugh mingled with Emma's as he knelt, allowing her to walk nimbly around him as he held his hand above his head, before standing and bowing to her.

When he pulled her to him once again, she leaned forward to press a kiss into his mouth. It was soft, sweet, chaste. When she pulled back, she reached up to smooth an imaginary line from between his brows, her face thoughtful.

"I love to dance with you. I always feel like a princess when you hold me like this." He pulled her tighter to him and they continued their movements along the street.

"You are a princess, Swan. You would be such in any man's arms."

"But I don't want to be in just any man's arms, Killian. This princess has a thing for a one-handed pirate." She didn't hesitate when she said it, which was a marvel in and of itself. It was then that the ache in his missing hand lessened and his coat no longer felt as if it was choking him with it's weight. The memories of nameless maids in rustling taffeta and the stiffness of his Navy uniform faded away under the loving gaze of his princess. Hooks and leather were suddenly much more appealing when they caught the attention of one extremely sexy savior.

In those moments, Killian Jones was able to let go of the man he had been to embrace the man he had become in Emma Swan's arms.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	4. Clothes

**Chapter Four: Clothes**

Emma liked to look good and despite everything else she didn't believe about herself, she did believe that she was attractive. Similar to Hook, she used that to her advantage to get what she wanted and didn't feel much remorse about it usually. She did what she had to to survive.

What _was_ hard for her to accept was that not only was she attractive, she was beautiful in a way that was ethereal. It radiated out from her soul and Hook often felt that he could see that radiance beaming out of her very pores. It literally stole his breath when she turned that beauty towards him and he would never get over feeling his stomach drop and his breath catch when she smiled at him.

Because she didn't understand the true strength of her beauty, she worked at enhancing what she felt was her "adequate" appearance. She used clothing for this purpose, creating a style that was simply Emma Swan, from her leather jacketed arms down to her booted heels. Hook had always appreciated a woman with style, and Emma had it in spades.

As they built their life together, Hook began to understand that there was more behind Emma's desire to be stylish than met the eye. When he finally moved in with her and Henry, he was surprised to note that there was surprisingly little room for his own clothes. It wasn't too much of a bother at first; he didn't have too many clothes of his own to add to her collection currently.

As he began to build his Storybrooke wardrobe, he soon ran out of space in which to store it. It was peculiar since he knew there had been more room when he first moved into their home and now, the little bit of space there had been was gone. When he asked Emma about it, she shrugged it off, mentioning something vague about using the guest bedroom closet to house his clothing and then changing the topic quickly.

So, good pirate that he was, he watched his prey to find her weakness.

What he discovered was that she bought clothes,_ tons _and _tons _of clothes, and kept them, all of them. Things she would only wear once she kept, things she would never wear, she kept. The number of leather jackets she owned was staggering to Hook. He had made do with the same coat for centuries and hadn't done too badly for himself with it, to be sure, but she had rows and rows of different options and could probably wear a different one each day for a month before starting back at the beginning.

He hadn't understood it at first, her desire to _own_ so much. As he watched, though, he realized it didn't come out of her desire to look good or to possess great quantities of things. That was the surface reason, the superfluous reason, the reason she used to justify her purchases. The true reason was, just like Emma, much more complex.

In the end, it wasn't watching Emma that helped him to determine the actual reason, but watching her with Henry and her little brother, Neal. She paid almost an obsessive amount of attention to what they wore, bringing home new clothes for them at the slightest change in the weather. The amount of new jackets, sweaters, scarves, and hats that were purchased when Elsa arrived in town was staggering. And when the seemingly eternal winter began to thaw, warmer weather clothes replaced the winter ones at an equally staggering rate.

He knew it was becoming a problem when Mary Margaret and David casually mentioned it to him at dinner one night. They had all met at Granny's and Emma was sitting with Prince Neal on her lap, both of them listening with rapt attention as Henry read aloud from his storybook. Emma had plopped down a bag of new clothes on the table when they'd arrived, brushing off her mother's exclamation that Neal had more than enough clothes as it was before gathering her brother into her arms and sitting at the booth next to the one he was sharing with her parents.

"She likes to shop these days." David's gaze was focused on his daughter, but Hook knew the statement was directed solely to him.

"Aye." Hook said no more, waiting to see where this was going before adding in any of his own thoughts. Emma came first for him, even with her parents, and he was loathe to tell them something that she would see as a betrayal.

"I don't think it's about that, David." Mary Margaret's soft chiding voice soothed the tension in Hook and he turned to catch her eye. "Is it, Killian?" She smiled and it was so extremely sad, Hook knew that her mother had figured her out.

"I don't believe it has anything to do with her "liking to shop" milady, no." Mary Margaret watched Hook intently for a moment as if assessing his true measure. He'd seen that look on her face ever since he'd met her and her daughter. It was an appraising look under which he was often found lacking, he was sure. In this instance, though, she seemed to see something that convinced her to explain how she had come to her conclusions.

"When I was living in the Enchanted Forest, I didn't have much, as you can imagine. I wasn't much concerned with fashion at the time, focusing more on survival, of course. Mostly, I kept to myself since I never knew when someone would turn on me and alert the Evil Queen of my whereabouts." Hook watched as Mary Margaret's eyes became unfocused as she stared back over the years.

"Occasionally, I did have to venture into villages or towns. I remember the last time I went. There was a young girl there, about my age, and she looked so beautiful in her fine clothes and I could still vaguely remember being like that, once. I followed her for a time, listening to her trivial conversation and laughing at her silly jokes with her friends. I wished so badly to be in her place. To have warm clothes, friends, consistent food...More than anything, though, I wanted to care about the things that she did. To not have to worry about where my next meal would come from or if I would be caught the next day." Her voice faded off for a moment and she seemed to gather her thoughts before her gaze focused on Hook again.

She continued, a bitter edge now in her voice."She caught me looking at her. Her eyes went up and down my clothes and her nose wrinkled in disgust like she had smelled something bad. I've never felt so small in all my life. That's saying something, considering I had an Evil Queen out for my head. I was surviving, barely, and I was so ashamed of all that I didn't have just from one simple look of repulsion. It look me a long while to ever feel warm again after that." She paused, her eyes filling with tears at she looked over Hook's shoulder to where her daughter sat with her son and grandson. "Emma knows what that feels like, doesn't she?"

"Yes, milady, I believe that she does." Hook swallowed past the lump in his own throat before saying the rest. "I believe she knows what its like to be cold, not having what she needed to become warm again, and to be looked down on because of it. I believe...I _know_ that she never wants her son or her brother to feel that."

He heard David sigh and Hook's gaze flicked from Mary Margaret's infinitely sad face to the haggard one of the Prince's. He couldn't imagine the depth of their guilt when it came to letting go of their own flesh and blood and the sorrow they must feel every time they were reminded that she hadn't been given her best chance when they let her go.

"She told you this?" The Prince asked him, fearing the answer. Hook bowed his head slightly in deference to the royal couple.

"Not as such, Your Highness. As you know, the Saviour often needs a gentle touch when it comes to matters of her heart."

"You'll let us know...if there is anything we can do?" Mary Margaret was earnest, the expression of desperate hopefulness on her face causing his heart to clench.

Reaching out, he grasped Snow White's hand in his own, squeezing her fingers in what he hoped was comfort. "Of course I will."

Emma and Hook left the diner soon after, Henry lugging his storybook in his arms as they walked the short distance to their home. Emma and he trailed behind her son, their hands linked as they walked along. Winter would be upon them soon; it seemed as if there hadn't been enough warm days since their last winter to get them through the long months of the next.

"Cold, love?" Hook asked her casually, watching as Emma exhaled deeply, her breath quickly turning white in the air before them.

"Nah. The cold never bothers me." She smiled softly, and he knew that she was missing her friend, Elsa. Much like he had with her mother, he squeezed her hand in his to comfort her. He steeled himself internally, knowing that now was probably the best opportunity he was going to have to set his plan in motion.

"It's got me thinking."

"What has?" She asked absentmindedly as she watched Henry cross the street several yards in front of them and then wait for them on the opposite street corner.

"Well, I was talking to your mother about her volunteer work at the hospital and she mentioned that she's organizing...oh, what did she call it? A clothing drive? Does that sound right?" Emma nodded in response, her eyes still focused on Henry. "I thought maybe we could donate some of our clothes to help those less fortunate."

Emma's steps faltered, but she didn't stop walking. Her brow wrinkled and she shot him a quick look. He couldn't quite decipher what she was feeling, but if he had been pressed to name it, the word _panic_ seemed to fit.

"What say you, Swan?" He squeezed her hand again, before bumping his shoulder against hers, trying to keep the moment light.

"I don't know, Killian, Henry needs all of his stuff. And you, you barely have anything to donate."

"I was thinking that my old leather coat could help someone out." That statement caused Emma to completely stop walking this time. Hook still gripped her hand in his, so when she stopped he found himself yanking on her arm as he continued to walk. He stopped, looking back at her.

"What?"

"You would give away your coat? _The_ leather coat?" Her eyebrows had shot up her forehead and her mouth was hanging open in surprise.

"Of course, love. I barely wear it any more and someone else could benefit from it's warmth." He shrugged, smiling softly at her. "There was a time, when I was young, that I knew very well what it was to be cold. If I can do something to help someone else stave off that feeling, then I shall."

He watched her, his eyes taking in a flicker of emotions as she battled with her past. He held her hand through all of it, patiently waiting for her on the other side of the whirlwind of fear that she was wading through.

"I...I'll think about it." Knowing his Swan as he did, he felt his heart jump in his chest at her words. It wasn't much, but it was a start and that was half the battle when it came to Emma.

He leaned forward, pressing a warm kiss to her cheek before pulling on her hand again to get her to move. Henry was impatiently waiting for them on the steps of their home, juggling his book from arm to arm as they walked towards him. Emma was quiet, but Hook took it as a sign that she was pondering their conversation, which was all he needed right now.

Over the course of the coming weeks, as cold settled in Storybrooke, Hook took to helping Mary Margaret plan for her clothing drive (she had most graciously decided to go along with his plan and took on the project with much gusto, to Hook's chagrin). He began collecting boxes and going door to door, asking for donations. Most people were skeptical when Captain Hook knocked on their door, but finding him standing arm in arm with their beloved Snow White helped to sway them. Henry began to go with them on their trips and soon they had quite the collection.

Hook and Henry talked about it during dinner almost every night and Mary Margaret would often call Emma to have her ask Hook a question about what else they needed to collect more of: hats, scarves, coats? Despite her initial hesitation, Emma soon began to participate in the conversations and the day that she decided to trail after Hook, Henry, and Mary Margaret on one of their scavenging tours, Hook knew that he had her convinced.

That night, after they had gone over their inventory and boxed up a couple of sets of jackets, shoes, and socks, Hook casually suggested that in the morning they go through their own closets and add to the haul. Henry had long since gone to bed, so it was just the two of them, working side by side.

"We've pretty much canvased the whole town at this point. We can deliver these boxes to the hospital tomorrow. We should top off the boxes with our things as well. If you're amenable, love?" He had his back to her, but he could sense her stiffen up at his suggestion. He waited, listening so hard for her response, that his whole body went still in anticipation.

"I guess we could. Yeah, why not?" Hook released the breath he'd been holding and his whole body unclenched at her response. That's my girl, he thought to himself. He bit a grin of pride back before turning around to face her.

"Good form, Swan!" She smiled at him before rolling her eyes. She taped the last box shut and when she passed him on her way to the kitchen, she slowed long enough to press a kiss to his lips. Not content with just that, Hook wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him and deepening the kiss.

When he finally allowed her to pull away, he was breathless and so was she.

"Not that I'm complaining, but what was that for?" She pressed her forehead to his, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen from his kisses.

"You're an amazing person, you know that, Swan?" Her flush deepened and she seemed a bit speechless. There it was again, Hook thought, as he took in the beauty before him. That radiant happiness bursting forth from her and touching his heart in a way that no one else had ever managed to do.

"They're just clothes, Hook."

"Aye, love, that's _all_ they are. They provide physical comfort and they make surviving easier, but they don't support you, they don't love you, they don't heal your wounds, and they don't make you better." He tightened his hold on her and whispered the next words, meaning them down to his very soul. "You do that for me, love. _You _support me, _you_ love me, _you_ help me heal, and _you_ make me better. I could posses the largest closet in this realm filled to the brim with all the finest clothes, but if I don't have you, I have nothing."

He felt her stiffen in his arms and he waited. Had he gone too far, exposed her too much? She seemed to be soaking in his words, deciding how to react and then he felt her sag against him, returning his hug so fiercely that he thought she would break one of his ribs.

"A long time ago, I would've given anything to be able to buy a warm, stylish coat. It meant so much to me the first time I could. Somewhere along the way, they stopped being just clothes to me. No one could get to me if I had enough of them, piled all around me like walls. I felt like all the bad times were behind me then."

"They _are_ behind you, Emma." She pulled away from him and smiled, brilliant and beautiful.

"Careful, pirate, I might just start to believe you." Then she kissed him again, deep and long, stealing his breath in that amazing way that she had.

The next day, she helped him pack up their clothes to donate. As they dropped off their boxes at the hospital, Mary Margaret beamed at the two of them in pride, winking at Hook as he handed over a box filled to the brim with Emma's clothes. As they exited the hospital, Hook wrapped Emma's small hand in his and suggested hot chocolate at Granny's to celebrate.

"To celebrate what?"

"You, love. You." Emma blushed at this, but Hook had never meant anything more in his life.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	5. Parenthood

**Chapter Five: Parenthood**

He had never asked Milah if she wanted children. While he loved her greatly, there was something deep within him that balked at raising a child with a woman who would leave her only boy with a coward like Rumpelstiltskin. As much as she said she loved her son, she never pushed him to go back for Baelfire and that spoke volumes to Hook. He loved her deeply, but he wasn't disillusioned about who she was as a parent.

After Milah's death, he was an empty shell, caring for nothing and no one. He knew that he was a poor excuse of a man and would make an even poorer excuse of a father. As he fucked his way through every port they dropped anchor in, he was careful to leave behind no progeny. He was a careless man in every other way, but this one.

When he found Baelfire in Neverland, he believed he could take care of the boy. For a moment or two, he thought he might be a good father figure, but Baelfire would have none of it, cursing his pirate life, and demanding to be let off the _Jolly Roger _to make his way alone in Neverland. It was probably best, what did he know of being a parent? He hardened his heart against the warmth he had felt, leaving Neverland and Baelfire far behind when Pan let him leave.

Three hundred years later and he found himself searching for another little boy, trudging through the jungles of Neverland again and cursing the impulse to chase after Emma Swan.

He couldn't help but admire the way that Emma was everything that Milah had not been as a mother. Emma has also given her boy away, but she did it for the most selfless of reasons; she wanted to give him his best chance. He found his heart beating harder in admiration of her deep love and selfless devotion to her boy.

As Hook learned more and more about Henry through Emma, he came to care about her son, if only by proxy. He learned of Henry's deep belief in magic, his tenacity when it came to convincing Emma of its existence, and his ever present optimism. When they were finally able to save Henry from Pan and leave Neverland, Hook had been as happy as if the boy were his own.

Then there was the terrible day when he watched as Emma and Henry sailed away from Storybrooke in their yellow vessel and into a future without him. He knew he would miss Emma, but he was surprised to find that he felt the same about Henry. When he began to sail the _Jolly Roger_ away from the curse's powerful reach, he wasn't just searching for Emma Swan, he was also searching for her boy.

Now that they were all back in Storybrooke, healthy and relatively happy, Hook and Emma were giving it a go and Hook and Henry were inseparable. It would have been perfect, except for the fact that Hook didn't have any experience with the traditions of this world. He just didn't understand the expectations of this realm when it came to children and the responsibilities they had. In his realm, he'd been sailing on a ship in the Royal Navy when he was Henry's age.

Emma had seemed extremely annoyed when he'd told Henry to ignore his bedtime to stay up and watch one of those amazing movies that Hook had become so fond of, picking one that apparently was not age appropriate, which gave Henry nightmares for a week, not to mention having him oversleep for school the next day. He also didn't understand the concept of homework and Emma seemed to take particular issue with him telling Henry to blow it off so he could take the boy sailing with Smee.

He tried, but he seemed to make mistake after mistake with Henry, which annoyed Emma more often than not. The fights between them began to escalate in dramatic fashion as he continued to push against the rules the Emma insisted that he keep. He hadn't followed anyone else's rules in an extremely long time, and it was hard to start now, especially when he knew there was no real harm to Henry in breaking them. Did she honestly think that learning from a book was more important that hands on experience, especially for her son who would no doubt need to know a thing or two about surviving, given his lineage?

It was after one of these fights that Hook found himself sitting on the porch of their rented house, flask in hand, while Emma ranted and raved at Henry in the living room for going sailing with Hook instead of school. Hook's head was pounding, anger coloring his cheeks as he clenched his jaw in frustration, Emma's angry words playing over and over in his head. Did she really not trust him with her son? What was he even doing here if she couldn't trust him, after all this time.

He was so wrapped up in his dark thoughts that he failed to notice that Emma's voice had stilled or that the front door had opened and closed. He started a little bit in surprise when Baelfire's son plopped down next to him.

"She'll get over it."

"I don't know about that, Henry. She was pretty mad this time."

"Yeah, but it's more my fault than yours, even if she does seem equally annoyed with us both right now." They sat in companionable silence, looking up at the stars above them. Hook took another swallow of rum, sighing as the familiar burn flowed into his stomach.

"What's that taste like?" Henry asked curiously and Hook looked down at the flask in his hand. He paused for a moment and then shrugged. She was already pissed with him. How much worse could it get?

He offered the bottle to Henry and said simply, "Don't tell your mother." Henry took the bottle, sniffing at the rim in hesitation before taking a small swig. He started coughing as soon as he swallowed and Hook reached out to slap him on the back, chuckling in humor at the boy.

"That's gross!"

"Aye, lad. Remember that for the future." Hook laughed and then sighed, before muttering, "Your mother is going to kill me for that."

"I won't say anything."

"Maybe she's right, Henry. Maybe I am a bad influence on you. You probably shouldn't spend so much time with me, you know, when she's not around."

"She didn't mean what she said. She was just upset. You're a good guy, Killian."

"I've not done much in my life to confirm that."

"That's not true! You helped save me in Neverland. You could have sailed away with the magic bean and never come back, but you didn't. You made a different choice, the hard choice. You're a hero!" Henry grinned up at him, his eyes so much like his father's that it twisted Hook's heart to look into them. "Not to mention that I'm the truest believer and I happen to believe that you're a good guy. And I'm _never_ wrong. My mom believes it, too, you know. Even when she's mad."

Hook felt as if his heart might actually beat out his chest at the boy's heartfelt words. He wanted to be what Henry thought he was.

"I'll have to take your word for that, lad." Hook took another swig of rum, embarrassed at the rush of emotion he was currently feeling.

He heard the front door open, Emma calling to Henry, telling him it was his bedtime, and sternly reminding him that he was grounded and he couldn't stay up and read tonight. The door shut as Henry re-entered the house and Hook ran a hand over his face, wondering if he should take a room at Granny's for the night. He was surprised when he heard the patter of Emma's bare feet move softly across the porch to stop next to him. He was aching to apologize, hating to be at odds with her for very long, but too proud to give in that quickly.

"He's right, you know." Hook looked up at her, tilting his head back so he could see her face. She peered down at him, hands resting in her back pockets, lips set in that grim line that Hook was not overly fond of. "You_ are_ a good guy."

"You heard that bit, did you?" She nodded stiffly, but said no more. She must have missed the sip of rum then. He cleared his throat before saying the thought that was burning in his heart. "So, I'm a good guy, but not good enough to take care of your son."

"I never said that!" She quickly hunkered down, her brow wrinkled in consternation as she grabbed onto his shoulder for balance before sitting fully down next to him. "Look, I'm Henry's mom and at the end of the day, my word goes. I need you to respect that."

"You think I don't respect you?" Emma sighed, rubbing a hand across her face before taking in a deep breath.

"That's not what I'm saying." Their shoulders bumped as she reached over, plucking his flask from his hand and taking a deep swig before she wrapped her hand around his arm, her head connecting with his shoulder as she pulled him closer to her side. Neither of them said anything for several moments, wrapped up in their frustration. But little by little, Hook felt his anger ease as she pressed herself into him, almost trying to burrow under his skin, it seemed.

"I care about him, Emma. I'd never do him any harm." Hook pressed his lips into the softness of her hair, no longer caring if he caved first.

"I know."

"I _do _respect you. You're an amazing mother." She blushed prettily, but didn't disagree with him. Good, she was starting to believe in herself then. That was a change, a change for the better.

"Why do you always push the rules? It undermines me."

"Pirates aren't overly fond of rules, love." She snorted at that and then sighed.

"When it comes to Henry, I need a little less Hook and a little more Killian."

He had nothing to say to that. He was equal parts Captain Hook and Killian Jones most days and he never wanted to ignore one side of his personality in favor of the other. He had never pretended to be anything other than himself with Emma and he never wanted to do that with Henry either. Is this what it meant to be a parent? Was he okay with that? Could he sacrifice his principles like that?

He thought of Emma, remembered each time she'd made a choice that was the best for her son. She put her boy first so many times over the course of the time that he'd known her, and he loved her all the more for it. She'd done it selflessly, in honor of her boy, and he knew that there were times when she could have chosen herself first, but didn't.

He realized as he sat there, Emma's warmth seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, that it wasn't about giving up one piece of himself in favor of the other. It was about being the best version of himself, even if that went against his baser desires, because that's what Henry needed. It was about putting another person first, what was best for them, not yourself. _That's _what it meant to be a parent, making the hard choice, presenting the best side, each and every time, no matter what.

He didn't know what to say to make the situation better. He settled on the truth.

"I can't promise that I'll always make the right choice when it comes to your boy, love, but I'll try. You both mean so much to me." He pressed another kiss into the sweetness of her hair, whispering the next words as a fear so strong it almost choked him flared within him. "Please don't give up on me, Emma."

She squeezed his bicep with her hand as she pressed her face against his shoulder. "You never give up on the ones you love." She whispered back and he felt in that moment that maybe, just maybe, he could be the man that Emma and Henry believed that he was.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	6. History

**Chapter Six: History**

It bothered him, not knowing how to navigate this world. He was a quick study; he was adaptable, but there were so many new things to understand that there were days when his head hurt with trying to remember it all. This world was marvelous and terrifying all at the same time.

Hook took to reading Henry's history books to understand more of the world that the other cursed members of the Enchanted Forest were familiar with. It helped him to understand their frame of reference, not to mention Henry and Emma's. There were similarities, of course: war, famine, strife, those were always the same, regardless of the realm. There were villains, thieves, and pirates a plenty and they survived alongside princes, sheriffs, and heroes in both worlds. It helped him feel grounded in this strange world, understanding the history of it all. He felt as if he could assimilate all the better by soaking up the history and having a frame of reference for it all, for Emma.

It was on a night when he had borrowed Henry's history book to continue reading about World War II, a subject he found strangely fascinating, that Emma came to him. She pulled the book from his hands, bestowing one of her breathtaking smiles on him. Settling next to him, she pulled the history book into her lap and reviewed the chapter heading before looking up at him with a quirk in her brow.

"Why do you read this stuff so much? It's depressing." She wrinkled her nose to show her disdain with his choice of reading material.

"I want to know more about your world, love. It helps me understand."

"Understand what?" She turned the page of the book, trailing her fingers along the closely packed words and then down over a map of Europe.

"You, I suppose. Henry as well. I want to know what you know."

"We won. There. Now you know what I know." She slammed the book shut, dropping it on the side table and turning to snuggle against his side. She was warm and smelled like cinnamon.

"I was reading that, young lady." He wrapped his arms tightly around her, burying his nose into the silkiness of her hair, trying to sound annoyed and failing miserably.

"If you're not careful, you're going to turn into some stuffy professor, memorizing all that history."

"There are worse things than being a well educated man, Swan." She hummed thoughtfully in response then turned her head up so that he had to shift back to catch her eye.

"It means a lot to you, understanding me, doesn't it?"

"Of course." She could see the surprise in his face, hear it in his tone. He watched as a lovely, pink blush warmed her cheeks and she pressed her face into his shoulder again to hide from him. "Emma?" He asked softly.

"It's just..." He could barely hear her, her words muffled against the fabric of his shirt. "No one's ever really cared like that before."

"Oh." Hook tightened his arms around her in instant understanding. "Does it bother you?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" She pulled away to look up earnestly into his face. Her blush deepened and a small, bashful smile broke out across her lips. "It's nice. I like it."

"Well, good, because it's not going to stop any time soon." He smiled at her and couldn't help reaching down to press his lips against hers. She sighed as she settled back against him, her mouth moving softly with his.

There would be a day when she would no longer be surprised by the fact that he wanted to know everything about her, even the periphery of her life, because she was the most important person in his. He swore he would keep learning about her and by doing so, he hoped she would come to understand his love and return it back to him.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	7. Drinking (M)

If you've stuck with me this long, how about a little smut? ;)

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><p><strong>Chapter Six: Drinking<strong>

Hook was drunk. As in, stumbling, stuttering, falling down, drunk. He'd gone out with Robin Hood and his Merry men to help take the man's mind off his current woman troubles and somehow, Hook had decided that the best way to help the man was to match him drink for drink. Why he thought he could out drink a man with a broken heart was beyond him, but he had, and he did, to this miserable outcome.

It had been an incredibly long time since he'd been this drunk. Maybe it was his old age, but it wasn't as fun as he remembered. He was having a hard time making it home from Granny's even though he only had to take one right and walk in a straight line to get there. He hadn't even managed to do that simple task and he was currently sitting on a bench, looking out over the water of the Storybrooke harbor, bemoaning the loss of his beloved _Jolly Roger_ and wondering vaguely when he had gotten so turned around on the walk home.

He had no sense of the time and the thought of trying to get his newfangled phone out of his pocket made his stomach drop with nausea, so he just sat there, looking out over the water as he hummed one of the tunes that his crew used to sing on the _Jolly_. He watched as the sun rose up over the ships in the harbor, sitting there as activity began to bustle around him, as his stomach began to ache, as his eyes became heavy with the need for sleep. He swayed now and again in his spot, almost as if he was swaying with the motions of his ship.

Gods in the sea, but he missed her. The _Jolly Roger_. She had been, and was hopefully still, a most fine vessel. She'd been his comfort, his home, his family. For many a year, she was the closest thing he had to love in his miserable life. But he knew he'd done right when he'd given her up to get to Emma. The chance to his see his Swan again outweighed any sense of loyalty he'd felt to the _Jolly Roger_.

He had made the right choice, but it didn't make missing her any easier.

So, he sat wallowing in his pain, drunk beyond measure, and wondering how in the world he was going to make it home when he caught the scent of something vaguely familiar on the wind. He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and swayed a little too much to the left as his world began to spin.

"Whoa!" He felt a firm hand brace against his shoulder, catching him before his balance gave way. He opened his eyes, smiling sheepishly up at Emma, the scent of vanilla surrounding him as she sat beside him.

"Swan. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"You look awful." She leaned in and sniffed at him, turning her head slightly in disgust. "You _smell_ awful."

"You smell _divine_, love. Come on, my beauty, give us a kiss." He tried to lean in closer to her, but she abruptly removed her hand from his shoulder and he hung precariously there for a moment, before topping quickly towards Emma's lap. Not able to correct himself in time to prevent himself from colliding with her, he twisted forward, landing in a heap at her feet.

"Like that's gonna happen." She snorted at him as he lay there.

He groaned, face pressed into the wood of the pier. His hook was embedded in the bench above him, where it had landed as he tried to stop his downward trajectory, and his coat was tangled around him. He couldn't move, but considering the lurch his stomach had made when he landed, maybe that was for the best.

"Little help, Swan?"

"Oh, I don't know, it's a glorious morning. I think I might just sit here and enjoy the scenery for a bit." She leaned back, stretching her arms across the back of the bench and crossing one elegant leg over the other in relaxation.

"Show a little mercy, woman."

There was a pause, a sharp intake of breath, and then...

"Mercy? _Mercy_? _Me_ show _you_ a little mercy?" Hook flinched to hear the shrill note in her voice.

"Why do I fear that I've done something terribly stupid that you will hold over my head for the next several weeks?" She growled. Good gods above, she actually _growled_ at him. He flinched again when her hands wrapped around the lapels of his jacket, swallowing hard when she yanked him back up onto the bench. His hook popped out of the wood as he was jumbled about and she grabbed hold of it, pulling him close to her with one hand as she pushed the sharp end of the hook into his jugular with the other.

"Swan?" He managed to squeak out, his vision blurry around the edges from all the movement.

"You went out with the boys at 7 last night for a "few drinks" and that was the last I heard from you! I was up all night, calling all over, driving up and down the streets of this damn town, trying to find you! I thought something horrible had happened! Then I get a call this morning from David. Someone had reported a strange man with a hook sitting on the pier. Just sitting there...for hours! Hours! You've been here the whole damn time and why the hell didn't you answer your phone?"

By the time she stopped her tirade, she was yelling at the top of her lungs and yanking Hook back and forth in front of her. Her face was flushed red, her eyes almost popping out of her head. He'd never seen panic in her eyes like that before. She was panting in rage, staring at him with fury shaking her limbs.

"I'm sorry, love." Hook was able to choke out before his stomach lurched up into his throat.

He turned to the side as best he could, pulling away from her, and swallowing hard. He paused a moment, then one more hard swallow and he was up, stumbling towards the edge of the pier. Dropping to his knees, he emptied his stomach over the side, retching in a way that he hadn't experienced in years.

When he had finally stopped, he pressed his forehead on the cool wood beneath him, taking deep breaths and swiping at his mouth in disgust. He lay there for several minutes, trying to ease his stomach and pull himself together enough to explain to Emma. He was beginning to feel his stomach cramp up again when he felt a hand rub gently along his back.

"Better?" Emma asked. Her voice was soft again, the anger and fear he'd heard earlier replaced with genuine concern.

"I don't think I'll be better for a while, lass."

"Serves you right, scaring me like that."

"Aye." He settled back on his haunches, looking down at his shirt to see if he'd managed to soil himself. Thankfully, he'd reached his target in time and his clothes looked no worse for wear.

Emma reached out, smoothing a hand across his brow, the coolness of her touch an instant balm. She sighed as he closed his eyes in relief, his world instantly tilting again. This time, she let him lean into her, wrapping an arm around him as he pressed his face into her chest. He breathed deeply of her vanilla scent, hoping it would help dispel the scent of sick filling his nostrils.

"Let's get you home. We can talk later." Pressing a kiss against the back of his head, Emma disentangled herself from his grip, standing and then helping him to his feet. The trip home was mercifully short, the rocking of her car causing Hook to fear that he would lose the last of his stomach's contents.

She helped him into their home and up to the bathroom, ordering him to strip for a shower. He tried to work on the buttons of his shirt, but he was taking so long that she sighed and started on the fastenings of his pants. While the moment was decidedly not in any way sexy, Hook couldn't help the immediate hardening of his body as her fingers brushed tenderly against him. He flushed in embarrassment as she slid his pants down his hips. His hard member almost bounced into her face as she knelt to help him step out of his pant legs.

Standing up, she quirked one eyebrow in amusement at him. "You can't be serious."

He shrugged and then attempted a sexy smirk in her direction. It ended up being more of a grimace and she laughed at him. Sighing, he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, resting his good hand on her hip.

"Can't help it, love. I'll want you even when I'm dying." He had meant it as a joke, but he felt his mistake when she tensed immediately beneath his hand.

"Don't say that. Don't ever even joke about that." She wrapped her arms around him and he felt her trembling against him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. Truly, Emma."

"What happened? Why didn't you come home?" She sounded so lost all of a sudden, almost as if all her anger and bravado had been left on the pier.

"I didn't pay attention to how much I was drinking. It's been a long time since I've had that much hard liquor in one sitting and I suppose I've lost my head for it. I started to head home, but then I was thinking of the water..." He trailed off and she pulled back from him to peer into his face.

"Of the _Jolly_?" He nodded softly and then pressed his face into her shoulder again, sadness blooming out from that hollow spot in his chest that was the shape of one magnificently enchanted ship.

"I'd never change what I did when I gave her up. Never." He said fiercely.

"But you miss her." It was a statement, not a question.

"Aye. She was my home. My last link to Liam, to Milah..." He couldn't say more, but she understood. They stood there, her arms wrapped around him as she smoothed her hands along the planes of his back. Finally, she pulled back from him and began to push his shirt off his shoulders, continuing to help him disrobe.

"Shower." She ordered when he was fully naked, his soiled clothing piled on the floor. He shuffled into the shower, the water she'd turned on cascading over his back. He stood there for several, long blissful moments, steam billowing up around him.

When the shower curtain slid back, he was startled. He turned to find a naked Emma Swan standing before him.

"I thought I would help you wash up." She smiled softly at him as he nodded enthusiastically at her before groaning and grabbing at his head. "Not good?" And he could hear the laughter in her voice.

"Most definitely not good."

"Serves you right." She repeated.

"I'm going to hear that many, many times in the next few days, aren't I?"

"Yep." She popped the "p"as she stepped into the stream of water before him.

Reaching over for the shampoo bottle, she squirted a portion onto her palm before reaching up and starting to rub it into Hook's scalp. He bent his knees slightly to help her reach, bracing himself with one hand on the wall and his stub resting on her waist. Little moans of pleasure passed from his mouth now and again as she raked her fingers through his hair, building up a good lather as she worked.

"That feels amazing, love."

"God only knows why I'm being so nice to you."

"Because you love me." He said it in jest, the alcohol that still flowed through his veins loosening his tongue. He was usually so careful to not say the "L" word with her, even though he was thinking it every bloody second of every bloody day and had been since that damned kiss in Neverland.

He opened his mouth quickly to make a joke, change the topic, start to sing, _anything_ to keep her from running away from him again when she said the most amazing thing.

"I do." Hook stilled, staring into her face. She was focusing on her hands as she kept massaging his scalp, almost resolutely refusing to look at him. Hook felt as if his heart would burst out of his chest as he stood there with his mouth gapping open in surprise.

"Close your mouth." She chided after she finally glanced up at him, blushing when she saw the dumbfounded look on his face.

He obediently closed his mouth as she turned to rinse the suds from her hands. That task completed, she wrapped her hands around Hook's waist as she turned him more fully into the water stream so he could rinse his hair. She kept her hands where she'd placed them as he leaned back and let the water run over his head. Reaching up with one hand, she helped rinse away the shampoo, her breasts sliding against him in the most delightful manner.

Once she was satisfied that his hair was completely rinsed, she leaned over to grab a bar of soap. She started at his chest, swirling the bar along his skin with one hand as the other hand followed closely behind helping to build a healthy lather.

Hook couldn't help watching her as she worked. Her gaze was focused and deliberate, not missing one area with either the soap or her hand. He could tell when she came across a particularly fascinating part of his body. Her movements would slow and she'd bit down on her lip in concentration. She'd swirl the soap first against him and then slide her hand after it, her fingers tweaking and caressing as she went.

She didn't miss a spot and when she had covered his entire body in suds, she moved to lather his length. He was once again hard and throbbing, his desire for her currently pushing away any of the sickness he had been feeling.

Emma lathered up both of her hands with the soap before dropping the bar back in it's resting place. She turned back to him, leaning up to kiss him as she wrapped her soapy hands around him. The instant she touched him, a deep moan of pleasure slid from his mouth into hers. Her hands slid up and down, up and down, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure. She was driving him mad with her touch, but gods help him, he would die if she stopped.

Given how drunk he was, not to mention Emma's skill, it didn't take him long to find his release. A long moan erupted from his throat as his seed spurted against her stomach. His legs shook with the effort to hold himself up and she wrapped her arms around him again to hold him steady.

"I thought you were angry with me." He whispered to her when he had caught his breath.

"I was. I am. But I love you more." He couldn't ignore that statement again.

"You love me?"

"Aye." She smirked at him. "I do."

"Not that I'm not completely ecstatic to hear you say that, love, but why now? Why say that to me now when it's been months of us together and you've never said it before?"

He watched as emotions slid across her face, wanting to understand what had changed for her between last night and today. She took a deep breath, reaching up brush his hair off his forehead before she responded.

"Because last night was by far one of the longest and most horrible of my life. The only time I've ever been that afraid was when Henry was taken to Neverland. The thought of not having you beside me, encouraging me, holding my hand, pushing me to be my best..." Tears welled up in her eyes, which she quickly blinked away before whispering to him, "I know I can survive without you, Killian, but I don't ever want to try."

"Emma." He leaned in, kissing her softly, beyond sorry he'd caused her pain, but inexpressibly happy at what it helped her to realize. The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, and stirring him to hardness again. She giggled as she pulled away from him, pushing him back slightly before adjusting the spray from the shower head to help rinse away the remaining soap from his body.

"You need some water to drink and a bed, pirate."

"Only if you join me in it, Swan."

"Some of us have work to do. You can recover on your own while I make the rounds with David. Besides, I'm still angry at you for making me worry." She nudged at his chest before turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. She handed him a towel before wrapping one around herself.

After they were dry and Hook had emptied half a bottle of water, he hunkered down into their soft bed, buried under piles of blankets. Emma kissed his forehead on her way out of their room, poking him in the ribs at the same time. Hook oomphed, wincing at the pain that was currently throbbing in his skull and now his side where she'd jabbed at him.

"Serves you right." She whispered to him, a satisfied smirk playing across her features.

"I'll gladly suffer this pain for the rest of the day if you'll tell me you love me again." He whispered up to her. Her eyes flared with his request and her smirk softened as she leaned over him again, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before murmuring into his ear, "I love you."

When she had left and Hook was slipping off to sleep, he replayed her words over and over in his head. He thanked whatever Gods had smiled on him last night in addition to blessing the large quantities of rum that he had consumed. While he never wanted to cause his Swan such pain again, he knew that he would forever be grateful for the insight it had given her about her feelings.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	8. Babies (M)

**Chapter Eight: Babies**

His life as a pirate on the high seas had never been conducive to babies, of course, so he'd not had much occasion to spend time with them. He wasn't entirely sold on the idea of them, in general, although there was a part of him, deep within that did want to raise a child. He had tasted it a bit with Baelfire and now with Henry. There was an appeal there for him, he had to admit.

To have a child, though, you had to have a _baby _first and that's where he lost interest. They cried and smelled, and needed constant attention. None of those things was in any way appealing. Not to mention the fact that he had a hook for a hand. How in the hell was he supposed to hold an infant with a hook?

So, it was with deep reluctance that he agreed to help Emma watch her little brother for her parents. It was a few months after the little Royal's birth and her parents, although wonderfully happy, were looking a little worse for wear. They needed a night out together and Emma had happily volunteered their services. Hook had not been in the room when the conversation happened, otherwise it would've been "her" services alone. By the time she told him their plans for the evening, she was so excited at the idea of "babysitting" with him that he couldn't bear to ruin her happiness. Thankfully, her parents weren't quite ready to spend a whole evening away from their boy. It would only be for a few hours and then Emma and he would be back home to enjoy some alone time of their own.

They ate at Granny's with Henry first before dropping him off at Regina's and making their way to her parent's loft. Hook couldn't stop fidgeting as they waited for the door to open. He didn't know what was making him so nervous, but he was seriously contemplating begging off for the evening and making his way to The Rabbit Hole for a few stiff drinks.

"Look, Swan..." He had reached out to turn her towards him when the door to the loft opened and David smiled happily at them. The rest of Hook's speech died on his lips as Emma quickly hugged her father and fairly skipped inside her parent's home, looking back in question as Hook faltered at the threshold.

"Your Highness." Hook bowed his head to the Prince and then followed Emma, dragging his feet similarly to Henry when he didn't want to do his math homework.

He looked around the loft, noting the differences since the last time he'd been here. There were lots of baby paraphernalia around the space now: a pram in a corner by the door, piles of clean and folded laundry on the table, clean bottles drying next to the sink. Stuffed animals decorated the corners of the couch and pastel colored swaths of cloth were draped over every surface, including the Prince's shoulder.

"Emma!" Mary Margaret practically bounced down the stairs towards her daughter. She hugged Emma quickly, her cheeks flushed with happiness. She then proceeded to provide her daughter with emergency numbers and instructions for warming bottles. Hook tuned her out, a knot of apprehension forming as the minutes ticked by surrounded by all this baby...stuff.

Before he knew it, David and Mary Margaret were putting on their jackets, a glazed look of excitement in their eyes. David pressed one more kiss to Emma's cheek, during which she grabbed the pastel cloth from his shoulder as he'd apparently forgotten it was there, and then they were gone. There was a moment of silence before a small shriek of anger broke the air.

Hook's whole body tensed as Emma quickly gathered her brother into her arms from his crib. She snuggled him against her as she plopped down on her parent's bed. Prince Neal was quickly building up a head of steam as he flailed his little fists around in anger.

"What's wrong with him?" Hook took one lingering step towards Emma, his own hand balled up at his side.

"Oh, anything could be wrong, I suppose, but I think at the moment he misses his folks." Emma smiled down at her brother, jostling him softly in her arms as she bounced on the bed. Hook watched her, listened to the soothing coos she made as she tried to calm the little one's squalling.

"Heat up a bottle for me, will you?"

"Pardon?" Hook titled his head to the side, watching as Emma stood and swayed back and forth. She never took her eyes off the bundle in her arms and Hook couldn't help but be awed by the expression of complete and utter love on her face as she gazed down at baby Neal. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, his breath absolutely rushing out of him as he stood there. She looked so happy and content; it simply radiated out of her.

"Hook?" She looked up to him, confused as to why he hadn't moved. "Didn't you listen when my mom explained how to heat up the bottle?"

"Not as such, no." Emma sighed, rolling her eyes, and murmuring something about men under her breath as she came towards him with the baby. Hook took a startled step backwards, holding up his hand and hook as if he was warding her off.

"Why did you even wear that thing here?" She asked him, staring at his hook in exasperation. "It's like you prepared for battle."

"Babies can be treacherous, love."

"What babies have you been hanging around?" She asked jokingly, glancing up at him. He wasn't sure what she saw on his face, but something caught her attention and she paused, watching him for a moment before asking softly, "You haven't been around any babies, have you?"

Hook shook his head quickly, his gaze dropping in embarrassment to the little face peering up at him from against Emma's chest. Neal was sucking on his fist, tears gathered on his eyelashes. He had his father's eyes, a brilliant, bright blue that focused on Hook with an intensity that seemed out of place for such a young lad.

"First things first," Emma had that take charge tone to her voice that Hook knew better than to argue with. "Hook. Off."

He hesitated for a moment before twisting his hook out of it's mooring and storing it in the pocket of his jacket. He decided to hang the jacket up. Best to keep sharp objects away from little body parts. Once he was hook and jacket-less, he made his way warily back to Emma and her brother.

"Arms. Out." Emma ordered and when Hook had done as she ordered, she leaned forward to slide her brother quickly into his arms. Hook felt his whole body tense as the slight weight was transferred to him. Neal kept his gaze firmly locked on Hook's face, his fist covered in saliva as he sucked happily.

"Emma?" He could hear the utter panic in his voice. Get it together, man, he told himself, you're a pirate! You have a hook! There's no reason to be afraid of a baby! Except that he was. Deeply, deeply afraid. He hadn't been a gentle man or a truly good one in a very long time and his ability to corrupt and warp all that was innocent in this world was a fact of which he was well aware, even if Emma seemed to have forgotten it.

"Here, keep his head in the crook of your elbow. Yeah, that's it." Emma helped him adjust his grip a bit before stepping back to inspect his hold. "You've got it. See? Not so bad."

He didn't say anything in response, but continued to look down at the Prince. Emma leaned up to press a kiss against his cheek and then one against the fuzz of her brother's dark hair before turning towards the kitchen. Hook was aware of her moving around and the faint ding of the microwave in the background while he swayed softly back and forth.

"Let's get you guys settled on the couch." Emma had returned to him, a bottle in one hand and one of those patches of cloth in the other. He was almost afraid to walk, but decided that if he could walk on the deck of the _Jolly Roger_ in high seas, he could manage to walk with a babe in his arms. He made his way over the couch. Once he had found a comfortable position, Emma moved a pillow under his arm and then showed him how to hold the bottle at an angle. Neal latched on eagerly to the nipple, one hand grasping ineffectually at the bottle, the other curling up into a fist at the side of his little head.

Emma placed the pastel cloth on Hook's shoulder, explaining how he'd have to burp the baby once he was done eating. Hook was only vaguely listening, mesmerized by how little the Prince's fingernails were. Emma faded into the background as Hook and the Prince spent dinnertime getting acquainted with each other. Hook couldn't get over those little fingers with their clean nails; ten sharp little crescents on two perfectly complete hands.

He moved next to examine the softness of the baby's hair. It was a deep, dark black, like a raven's wing. It stuck up wildly in the back, but was brushed smoothly over to one side in the front. Hook surreptitiously looked up to locate Emma with her back to the two of them in the kitchen. When he was sure she was occupied with tidying up the counter, he ran one fingertip along the side of the baby's head, marveling at the silkiness of his hair.

Neal kept sucking enthusiastically at the bottle during all of this, little bubbles of milk forming at the corners of his mouth. His keen gaze was locked on Hook, almost as if he was cataloging the man much as Hook was cataloging him. Hook settled back into the couch a bit more, enjoying the warmth that the little body tucked against him was providing.

As he watched, Neal's eyelids slid sleepily closed, his sucking slowing to just one or two small tugs at the bottle. Then, he seemed to startle himself awake, his eyes popping open to land on Hook again, the sucking beginning up furiously as if to make up for the few minutes that he fell off it. Hook felt a grin break out across his face.

"That's it, lad, don't let it go to waste, eh?" Hook brought his hand up again, trying to smooth the bit of wild hair at the back of the boy's head. It didn't work, of course, but it gave him an excuse to touch those soft strands again.

"Is he almost finished?" Emma had wandered over. Hook blinked up at her, almost having forgotten that she was there with them.

"Just about."

"You'll have to burp him soon."

"That sounds like the perfect job for an older sister, Swan." Emma snorted, but gladly settled down next to Hook and Neal, removing the burp cloth from Hook's shoulder and placing it on her own. She snuggled against Hook's shoulder, leaning down to press a quick kiss to her brother's forehead and then inhaling deeply.

"Mmmm." She sighed. "I love that smell." Hook quirked an eyebrow at her in question. "Go on. Smell." She nodded at Neal's head, leaning back so Hook could press his nose against the soft skin at the side of the Prince's head. The pleasant scent of clean baby filled his nostrils as he breathed deeply before settling back against the cushions on the couch and noting that Neal had come to the end of his bottle.

"Well?" Emma smiled softly at him as he maneuvered the baby over to her waiting arms. She pressed him against her shoulder, his head turned to keep his eyes trained on Hook. His little hand stretched out towards Hook, who quickly grabbed his little fingers in his own as Emma began softly patting his back.

"I will admit there is definitely something appealing about his smell, Swan." She grinned at him over the baby's dark head. There was a momentary pause and then a darkness that Hook was only too familiar with crossed her eyes. Perhaps someone else would've missed it, but Hook was attuned to its appearance, having seen it so often in himself.

"What is it?" Emma didn't break his gaze, dropping little kisses to the back of Neal's head as she continued to pat him on the back.

"Henry." She replied, saying no more. She didn't need to. While she was ecstatic for her parents and she loved having a little brother, Hook often found her with tears of regret in her eyes after spending time with them and seeing her mother experience so many of the things that she had missed out on with Henry.

Hook reached his arm around Emma, pulling her closer into his side with her small charge nestled against her shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss against the side of her head and then asked the question that he had often wondered.

"Do you ever think about having another one someday, Swan?" Emma had stilled her hand against Neal's back. Hook waited for Emma's answer, his stomach clenched with a whole new apprehension unique from what had plagued him at the beginning of the evening.

"I swore to myself a long time ago that if I couldn't be a mother to my first little boy then I would never try to be one to any other." She stopped and Hook could hear the pain and regret in her voice. He wished he could see her face, could pull her closer to him. He settled for another kiss to her head.

"And now?" He whispered to her when the silence stretched and stretched.

"I'll never get rid of the guilt I feel for giving him away. It's like it's stitched into the very fabric of my soul and I can't remember a time since he was born when it wasn't there." She sighed, taking a deep breath into her lungs before continuing. "But it's different now that Henry's in my life. I'm learning what it's like to be a mom and I think...I think I'm kinda good at it."

"You're bloody brilliant at it, Swan."

"You think so?" And his heart clenched at the tone in her voice. She pulled back a bit to look up into Hook's face, hers so innocent and uncertain. Gods, but he loved her.

"You're a natural, love. Henry could ask for no better than you." Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes, but didn't fall. She smiled softly at him and then nestled herself back against him. He heard her sniffle before she finished her thoughts.

"I see how happy David and Mary Margaret are having Neal in their life. He's made them happier, brought all of us closer together. Babies have their own brand of magic, don't they?"

"I'm beginning to see that they do." Hook agreed softly, amazed at the gentleness he already felt for the babe held so firmly in Emma's grasp. He'd gone from being petrified of the little lad to wanting nothing more to sit and hold him all within a few short hours.

"I think...maybe, if the circumstances were right, that I might consider having another one." Her voice was quiet, hesitant, and he knew that the right circumstances had a lot to do with the man she might choose to consider having a child with. His stomach flipped at the thought of a small babe with his dark hair and Emma's luminous eyes and dimples.

"What about you, Killian? Have you ever thought about having any children of your own?" He smiled at the way she said that, as if she understood so well that he had come to see Henry as his own.

"A pirate's life is no life for a child." He responded evasively, suddenly not wanting to let her know just how much the idea appealed to him. He was the one unsure now, not wanting her to know how quickly his desires had shifted all within the space of a few hours.

"Is it still a pirate's life without a ship?" She asked back softly and he honestly wasn't sure.

"Perhaps not, Swan." Emma shifted Neal down from her shoulder and into the waiting cradle of her arms. She peered down at him as he nestled closer to her breast, his little arm plopping out to the side. Somewhere during their conversation he fallen deeply asleep, content with dinner and the warmth that his caregivers were supplying.

"I'm going to go put him down. Hopefully, he'll sleep until my parents are back." She stood, carrying him over to the cradle that was situated close to her parent's bed. She bent over as she laid him down, pulling up a blanket and tucking him in securely before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

She came back to Hook then, a patient smile on her face. She hesitated only a moment, standing between his splayed legs before sitting astride him, hands on his shoulders as she settled against him. Wrapping his hook-less arm around her back, he pulled her to him, reaching up with his good hand to stroke her hair back over one shoulder, looking up at her with curiosity and no small amount of desire.

"You never answered my question, you know."

"What question would that be, love?" The warmth coming off of her was hitting him straight in the groin and pushing any prior words they'd spoken out his mind.

"Babies. Good idea or bad?"

"Ah, yes, _babies_." He paused for a moment, his head tilting as he stared up at her. She was bloody gorgeous, her eyes twinkling, a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. He let his gaze wander from the top of her glorious head down to the dimple in her chin to the swell of her breasts, which were positioned right in his line of vision at the current moment.

When his gaze wandered back up to those lips that fairly haunted him when he wasn't kissing them, he sighed and tangled his hand into the hair at the back of her head before pulling her down to his mouth. He kissed her slowly, knowing that he would steal her breath and her thoughts because she always did the same to him when their lips touched. Her mouth was warm and silky and had him instantly thinking of other pleasurable kisses that she could be bestowing upon him.

"_Killian._" She whispered against his mouth, an impatient note in her voice.

"Hmm?"

"Your answer." She pulled away from him, leaning back, but then ground her center down against him in the most distracting fashion. He couldn't help pressing his hips up against her, the zipper of his very modern jeans sliding against her, causing a little sigh to slip from her lips and a soft moan from his.

"Love, you can't seriously expect me to answer that question right now." She smiled at him then, that smile that always took his breath, made his heart race, his blood rush. Ah, he loved that smile and he'd never seen its equal.

"Answer me, pirate, _or else_." Her smile was jubilant, happy, her eyes twinkling merrily down at him. She enjoyed flirting with him, had since they met, and she was good at it. But so was he.

He smirked up at her, cocking one eyebrow as he pressed her hips down against his again in one smooth motion. Her mouth formed a perfect "O" as her eyes slid shut in pleasure.

"Or else what, love?" He whispered, leaning forward to press a kiss into the hollow of her throat, letting his tongue taste her sweetness. When he looked back up at her, she was staring at him with a deep hunger in her gaze and he knew how this game would end.

She opened her mouth to answer his question, but whatever retort she had been about to give him died on her lips as the sound of a key in a lock interrupted her. She was up and off him in the blink of an eye, stepping so quickly into the kitchen that by the time her parents opened the door to the loft, there was miles of space between them.

Emma hushed her parents as they entered, whispering hello's to the two of them. Not wanting to delay their exit home, Hook stood and grabbed his coat and Emma's from the peg beside the door. Emma seemed to share his sense of urgency, the same desire that had flared in his body also running through hers. She met him at the door, shrugging quickly into her coat as she whispered a goodbye to her parents.

Hook ushered her into the hall and down the steps, grabbing her elbow to pull her down into the alcove at the bottom of the stairs. She giggled at him as he pressed her against the wall there, his hips aligning with hers instantly as he leaned down to suck against the column of her throat. She wrapped her arms around his waist, slipping them behind the heft of his coat, her head rolling to one side to give him greater access.

"I feel like a teenager caught making out with her boyfriend while babysitting." She sighed as he nipped at her collarbone and ground against her. There was a pause, then she breathlessly whispered, "I don't think I can actually do what I was going to threaten."

"What was that, love?" He pulled back, taking in the way her eyes were blown wide with desire, the indent in her bottom lip deep from where she'd bitten down as he'd kissed her throat. He couldn't resist that lip, of course, leaning down to suck softly, soothing her bite with his tongue before pressing little kisses to it.

"I was threatening you before, remember?" She tried to keep talking around his mouth. Trying to distract him from his intended goal. "I was going to swear off sex until you answered me, but I just...god, I want you too much."

He grinned against her mouth then, loving how completely wrecked she sounded. "Oh, shut up." She murmured against the grin, digging her hands into his hips and sighing when she felt his length press against her.

Hook leaned back, titling his head to one side as he took in the beauty that was before him. The clench of fear that had settled in his stomach at her question was slowly dissolving with each kiss. Taking a deep breath, he leaned close to her and pressed his lips to the shell of her ear. Closing his eyes and saying a quick prayer to whatever deity ruled this realm that he wasn't about to scare her into running, he whispered,

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" She asked him, the vague haziness he'd created about them reflected in her voice. He took a deep breath before whispering, "Babies are a good idea. Babies with you are an even better idea. And practicing making babies with you is about _the _best idea I've ever had. I may, in fact, be a bloody genius, love."

He was throbbing for her and if it wasn't the building where her parents lived, he would've taken her right then and there. He let his mouth trail down her neck, biting at the place where her neck and shoulder joined before soothing the teeth marks he'd left with soft swipes of his tongue. Pulling away with a groan of frustration, he looked down at her. The shy smile that she bestowed on him made his heart pound in his chest with happiness.

"Take me home, Killian?" She pleaded huskily, the importance of what he'd just uttered to her causing her eyes to sparkle in the dim light.

"Always, my love." He whispered to her before pressing a heated, quick kiss to her mouth.

Leading her out of the alcove and into the dark of the evening, Hook had never looked forward to his future more than in that moment. A family with the love of his life...someday, when the circumstances were right. He'd do all he could to be what she needed, what she wanted, do all he could to make her happy and provide her with the family she so richly deserved.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>_**Hook **__me up, lovelies! _


	9. True Love (M)

**Chapter Nine: True Love**

"Do you believe in True Love?" She asked him.

"How can I not when the product of it is currently lying in my bed, love?" He quipped back, his fingers twining in the golden strands of her hair that fanned out across his stomach.

She turned her head to look at up at him, a quirked eyebrow her only response. He smiled mockingly, his gaze sliding from her eyes slowly down the expanse of skin that was currently on display. She was a sight to behold, the fairest beauty in the all the land, and she was **his**. The thought could still steal his breath, even after all this time together.

"That's not an answer, Killian." He tore his gaze up from the perfect globes of her breasts back to her face. He could see the determined tilt to her chin and he knew she wouldn't let up until he answered her.

"Of course I do, Swan."

"But you're a pirate. Doesn't the idea of True Love kinda go against everything you stand for?" Hook stared down into her curious gaze, wondering where this was coming from all of a sudden, but knowing that his answer was extremely important to her. He could sense it in the rigid way she held her body, in the way she held her breath, in the way her eyes never left his.

"I may be a pirate, darling, but I've loved well in my life and been loved well in return."

It took her moment to absorb his words and then she flipped gracefully over onto her stomach, pressing her forehead into his hipbone for a moment before pressing a chaste kiss into his skin. He reached down to smooth her hair away from her face, so he could watch her face as she pondered his words.

"Do you think what we have is True Love?" Ah, there it was, her **real **question.

He had known love before, deep and intense, but this...this was something entirely new to him. She occupied his every waking moment, dominated his dreams. He wanted to know everything about her, understand every nuance that made her Emma Swan. He wanted to be who she needed, but more importantly, who she **wanted**. He would do anything to be the man she would chose, the man that she would love.

It was simple: for him, she was it. There could never be another who held his heart so completely. He would breathe his last when she did because the thought of living without her could not be tolerated.

She was his True Love and he wanted nothing more to shout it from the highest point in Storybrooke. But if she was asking him this question, perhaps she didn't feel the same? The thought was enough to cause his breath to catch, an ache unlike any he'd ever known radiating quickly through his body.

Not able to put his heart out there so blatantly without some kind of indication as to where this was going, he asked his own question instead of replying.

"Do you love me, Swan?"

"You know I do, Killian."

"And you know I love you. What does it matter if it's True Love or not? Do you plan on ending us if I don't think it is?" He asked it as nonchalantly as he could, acting as if he didn't care one way or the other, when the truth was the exact opposite.

"No." She smiled at him, trying to soothe some of the tenseness in their conversation. She reached up to trail her fingertips through the hair on his chest, letting the softness of her touch play havoc on his senses.

"Well, then. Where is all this coming from?" She sighed, propping her chin on his stomach with one hand while the other continued to trail along his flesh in aimless patterns.

"It gets in your head, you know? Being the product of True Love. Makes you think you should have the same. Are entitled to the same."

"So what makes you think that what we have isn't that?" Her hand paused at the tone in his voice; his charade of nonchalance ending abruptly. She seemed to sense that her question had struck a chord and that the tone of this conversation had shifted.

She stared up at him for a moment, a look of concern sweeping across her face before she titled her head to the side in thought. Then, she was moving, crawling up the length of his body, dropping kisses along his skin as she went. She stopped for a bit when she reached his chest, biting down gently on each nipple and pressing open kisses above his heart before continuing her methodically slow journey to his mouth.

She paused there, her hair creating a curtain around their faces, her mouth hovering over his as her body settled against his. They shared a breath or two, Hook waiting, waiting, waiting as always for her to make her next move.

"I guess there's only one way to settle this. O**nce **and for all."

"And what, pray tell, would that be, Swan?" He asked impatiently, his body still tensed beneath hers as if he was about to do battle and perhaps in a way, he was.

"A kiss."

"A kiss?" She leaned down to his lips, her smooth breasts with their tightened peaks brushing sensuously along his chest as she held herself above him.

"Yep. True Love's kiss. You. Me. Let's go, pirate. Pucker up." Hook squeezed his eyes shut in frustration; hadn't she lived here long enough to know how this magic stuff worked?

"There's no curse to break, Swan. True Love's kiss won't work unless there's a curse to break."

"Oh, ye of little faith." She smirked down at him and then did the most maddening little movement with her hips along his slowly stirring length. He may be annoyed and confused, but hell, she was gorgeous and naked, and was pressing all of her glorious bits along his. His hands were up and around her waist so quickly that a little squeak of surprise left her as he flipped them, pressing her down into the mattress with his body.

Pinning her hands up above her head with his good hand, he trailed the stump of his wrecked arm down her side and watched as she stared up at him, eyes wide with desire.

"What are you playing at, Emma?" When she didn't answer, a surge of anger ran through him. His patience was wearing extremely thin, his ever present desire for her driving him quickly to the point of insanity. "Don't you know how much I **love **you, woman?" It came out in a husky growl and he watched as Emma flushed at the sound.

It had only taken moments, but he was already hard and throbbing for her. How it was even possible so soon after having her only moments before, was beyond him, but he wasn't one to question his desire too deeply where she was concerned. He held himself above her for a only a moment, waiting for her to acquiesce before taking her again. One quick nod of assent from Emma and he flexed his hips, his cock sliding into her in one long, deep glide. Emma arched her back, a contented sigh leaving her lips as he bottomed out in her.

"_Emma_." An anguished whisper tore from his throat as he felt her slick heat envelope him. Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and if he wasn't so desperately wrecked for this woman, he would have been embarrassed at the depth of emotion he was showing her. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe as he gazed down into the face of the woman who was his undoing and** his** Saviour.

He didn't know how he could go on like this, never really knowing where they stood, never knowing if she understood what he would give up to be with her, always.

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and he could feel her trembling against him. Questions flared through her eyes, but instead of asking them, she reached up to cradle his face in her hands. She brushed her fingers along his cheeks, tracing his scar and then his jaw with her touch.

Then she whispered words so faint that he had to watch her lips form them in order to comprehend and when he did, his heart remembered them falling from her lips in very different circumstances.

"Hook. Come back to me." He moved then, his hips stuttering for purchase against hers before he found his rhythm. The hot grip of her body around him was almost enough to finish him off before he even started, but he wanted to show her, have her feel the depth of his love.

She moved with him, her hips lifting up off the bed in time with his deep downward strokes. They had done this so many times now that it had the potential to be redundant but it never was. She was always so ready for him, so in tune with what he needed, each and every time. He would never get enough of her.

He could feel her eyes on him as he leaned down to nuzzle at the soft underside of her breast, a particularly favorite part of her body for him. It was the spot that no one else ever saw, ever touched but him, so soft and silky under his lips as he trailed kisses from the crease up to the rigid peak. She trailed her fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp in encouragement as his tongue worshiped her skin, pulling her into the heat of his mouth and biting down until she moaned her pleasure.

As his hips moved of their own accord, his hand slid down between their bodies. Emma surprised him when she grabbed his wrist, shaking her head to indicate that this additional touch wasn't needed to bring her to completion.

"Just like this." She added, in case he didn't understand. "Keep moving like this." It was rare for her to not need the additional stimulation, but if the lady insisted then who was he to argue?

With each slide of his body into hers, Hook could feel his own pleasure building higher and higher. His body was trembling along with hers now and he couldn't help the little sighs and moans that kept sliding from his mouth. He could feel the slickness of her desire coating him, marking him as hers, and it warmed every part of him to know that he was bringing her such pleasure.

It became harder and harder for him to hold himself above her. She seemed to understand and pulled him down to her, so that he could focus all of his strength on his hips, which he kept moving at the speed and tempo she had asked for. He could feel how tense she was beneath him, louder and louder moans of pleasure joining his. It only took several more twists of his hips and her breath hitched, her fingernails digging into his side.

"Killian." She moaned. "I'm close."

He propped himself up on his elbows, watching the pleasure she was experiencing run rampant across her face. Her inner muscles were clamped down on his so hard that he was finding it hard to hold back his own climax until hers started, but he wanted to feel this with her and he'd give her anything she needed to get there together.

He sensed the moment she started to climax and white lights began flashing around the edges of his vision as he felt the tell-tale start of his own orgasm ripple through him at the same moment. As his breath hitched on her name and he throbbed his release deep within her heat, she grabbed the back of his head, pulling him down to her mouth.

The instant their lips touched, he felt **it**, magic as strong as any he'd ever known, surging up from within them and swirling in the air around them. It intensified each flare of his climax, curling his toes and stealing any rational thought from his mind as he moved with her.

It lasted for long moments, and Hook was fairly sure he was half-dead by the time it ended. He couldn't hold himself up any longer. He had enough strength to steer his body to the side as he collapsed. They were both panting, sweaty, and sticky from their exertions.

When he'd finally caught his breath, he opened an eye and caught her staring at him, the most self-satisfied grin on her face that he'd ever seen.

"True Love exists, with or without curses, pirate."

"You knew all along, didn't you?" He asked her, awe in his voice, happiness in every fiber of his being.

"Aye." She smiled.

"When? When did you know?"

"Always." She answered simply, shrugging one delicate shoulder.

"You could have fooled me, Swan." Her smile widened and she leaned closer to press a kiss to the tip of his nose.

"Well, just because I always knew it doesn't mean I was ready to accept it."

"And **now **you are?"

"I think I just proved that with the kiss to end all kisses, my love." He paused before reaching up to pull her closer to him so that he could kiss her again, softly, gently, sweetly.

"I love you, Swan." Those damn tears were back, but this time, they were matched by the ones he found in her eyes.

"I love you right back, Hook."

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	10. Sleeping in (M)

This was my favorite to write. Hope you like how it came out.

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><p><strong>Chapter Ten: Sleeping In<strong>

Emma stared over at the sleeping pirate beside her. She woken up extremely early that morning, stumbling to the bathroom in the dark, and then making her way back to the warmth of her bed. She was hoping for a few more minutes of sleep, but it was no use. She was awake and would be staying that way for the duration.

She was cozy, though, nestled amongst the clean sheets and blankets, with a very warm and gorgeous man lying beside her. Normally, Killian was awake before her, having some internal clock that was attuned to the the moments just before sunrise each morning. Today was different. He was on his side, his arm flung out towards her, his breathing deep and even as he slept.

As Hook often reminded her, life was about appreciating the quiet moments. Now was a quiet moment and she was going to go ahead and appreciate her life. She'd gotten better at that over the past few months, thanks to the man next to her. Maybe she could spend a little time appreciating him without him knowing. The man's ego was large enough as it was; she didn't need to add Swan worship on top of it.

She settled on her side, so she could face him. Pulling the blankets up to her chin, she nestled her hands under her cheek as she gazed over at him. He looked so peaceful, something sweetly boyish about his long lashes resting on his flushed cheeks and his hair mussed with sleep. If she didn't know him better, she'd say that he looked almost innocent, which caused a wistful sort of sigh to pull from deep within her.

He'd told her of his life before becoming a pirate, of course. He always sounded so jaded and disillusioned when he spoke of it, a bit of self-deprecation and loathing there that she found worrisome. Emma knew what it was like to think back on your younger self with regret and shame, knew that it was easier said than done to give yourself a little slack when reflecting on past choices. It still hurt, though, to know that he'd endured such pain and she hadn't been there to help him.

But now, as he slept, she could almost see the young man he'd been before all that, hopeful and eager. She wondered if he'd had the scar on his cheek back then, too, or if that was from his pirate days. Even after all this time, she'd never thought to ask him, and he'd never given up the story on his own. Her fingers tingled with the desire to trace along it, but she was loath to wake him, so she curled them under her cheek instead.

She focused in on his mouth, that perfect bottom lip that was completely distracting, catching her attention. She could hear the soft rush of his breath, sliding over those lips as he breathed peacefully. The sound warmed her down to her toes, making her stomach flutter in that pleasant way that used to freak her out and now made her insanely happy.

She'd never been one for the clean shaved look. There was an implication of danger when accompanied with a smart ass smirk and a quirked eyebrow. God knew the man used all three to his advantage on a daily basis. She flushed at the memory of him smirking up at her from between her splayed thighs last night after making her come undone so easily with that sinful mouth of his.

Having inspected his beloved face completely, she let her gaze wander down his body. She could feel his body heat radiating out from where he lay. She curled towards it, moving infinitesimally closer so as to not wake him. She loved his body, imperfectly perfect as it was. There were scars and rough edges from his life as a pirate. He bore them all with a prideful weariness that she understood only too well, having a few scars and rough edges of her own.

His palm was pressed down against the mattress in the space between them. Normally, he slept with his rings on, but last night they'd fallen into bed after taking a long, sensuous bath together, so he'd been bare of all adornments even his eyeliner when he'd fallen asleep. His hand was the perfect size to envelope hers, with long, nimble fingers that felt wonderful as they grazed her body. She couldn't imagine the kind of trouble he'd get into with two hands, knowing how mischievous he was with just the one.

As she watched, one of those long, lean fingers twitched against the white sheet. She looked up to his face, seeing no sign that he was awake, before letting her eyes drift back down to settle on the edge of the blanket that was riding low on his hip. She had a wonderful glimpse of the thin, dark line of hair that ran down his leanly muscled stomach and under the covers where she knew it thickened into black curls that surrounded his favorite appendage. It was a favorite of hers as well and another memory blazed through her thoughts, of her settling herself above him, letting him slide easily into her body, joining them again and again as she rode him to completion.

The blankets that she'd been huddled under were now stifling her. She pushed them down her body, moving as softly as possible to not jostle him from his slumber. She knew from experience that she could kiss him awake and he would help ease the ache that now ran through her body. But it was so rare for him to sleep-in that she decided to take matters into her own hands.

Having pushed the blankets down by her feet, Emma opened her thighs, propping her foot on the mattress and letting her hand slide down to her heat. She trailed her fingers to her opening, moaning softly when she felt the slickness of her arousal coating her fingers. Staring over at her sleeping lover, she thought of that wicked mouth kissing its way down her body. Gathering her wetness on her finger tips, she glided them up to her clit where she circled and circled in feather light touches as she imagined that bare hand of Hook's doing the same.

When that touch was not enough, she brought her other hand down to press slightly into her center, finding that slick spot that was so often her undoing. She imagined sitting on Hook's lap, facing away from him as she rode his body, his hands playing at her sensitive breasts as his teeth pressed down into the sinews of her neck. She couldn't help but moan at the thought as she rolled her hips, her fingers moving independently of each other, but in a wonderful tandem that was quickly moving her to her release.

As she felt her orgasm begin to pulse up from the soles of her feet, she opened her eyes on a gasp to find stormy blue eyes focused on her as she came. His cheeks were flushed, his teeth pressing down into his bottom lip as he watched her and she knew that he'd been watching for a while. She was too far gone to be embarrassed at having been caught. Besides, she knew he loved watching her like this.

Ripples of pleasure were flowing through her body, her hips stuttering up and down as she continued to push her finger in and out to prolong the sensations. Hook brought his hand up to her hip, guiding her movements softly and she could feel his pulse thrumming through his fingers, racing as hers was.

"That's it, love. So beautiful." He whispered in that scratchy morning voice of his that made her toes curl.

When it finally stopped, her body throbbed in intense aftershocks as her hands stilled. She caught her breath, settling back against the pillow and sighing in contentment. Opening her eyes again, she looked up at him, loving the smirk that was now gracing his face as he propped himself up next to her.

"I must say, you are by the far the most enjoyable alarm clock I've ever owned, Swan." She snorted, rolling her eyes in response.

"Have you ever even owned an alarm clock?"

"There's one my phone! I just don't generally need it."

"Humph."

"Why didn't you wake me, love? I would've loved to participate." He pouted a bit, trailing his hand from her hip to the juncture of her thighs, which were still propped open.

"You looked so peaceful." She sighed, her eyes closing as he caressed her softly.

"I'd give up a few minutes of dreaming of you to have the real thing in my arms."

"You were dreaming of me?" She opened her eyes, looking over at him in surprise.

"Aye." He brought his gaze up from where his hand was stroking her with feather lite touches to gaze back at her. She dropped her leg, reaching down to pull a sheet back up over herself before settling across from him. He mirrored her position, his hand moving from her thighs to pillow his cheek as he stared back at her.

"What was I doing in your dream?"

"Being magnificent." She snorted, rolling her eyes again.

"No. Really."

"Yes. Really." He answered back, his voice still an early morning whisper that was scratchy and deep. She smiled softly at the sound.

"Alright then, explain how I was being magnificent." He flushed then, and she was instantly intrigued. Not much could make him blush and his cheeks were now a flaming red that could put one of her blushes to shame. "Spill, pirate."

He licked his lips, swallowing and turning a deeper red before smiling softly at her. It was one of those smiles that he reserved solely for her, full of wonder and love. She'd never grow tired of seeing that look on his face, of having him love her so completely and unconditionally. Her breath caught, as it often did when he looked at her like that, before she matched his smile with one of her own to encourage him.

"You were...well, love, you were giving birth to our child."

"What?" She asked in surprise, not expecting _that _answer.

"We were aboard the _Jolly Roger_ and we were in my cabin. You were swearing up a storm at me, swearing off sex for the next 100 years, and well, you were having our baby." He flushed again, focusing on a point above her head as if he didn't want to see the expression on her face.

"Ah." She said and then stopped.

Here's where the panic would normally set in, would make her stomach clench in fear, but strangely she felt none of that. Nothing but a pleasant flutter of excitement at the thought of carrying his child. She supposed it should surprise her, this lack of fear considering the fact that she'd been living in fear most of her life, but again, nothing. Nothing but complete and utter contentment. She smiled again, reaching out to cup his whiskered jaw in her palm.

"Boy or girl?" He stared back at her, his own surprise at her response written in every line of his beloved face. "Well?" She prompted when he didn't answer.

"A wee lass." He responded, a smile breaking out on his face that was completely unparalleled to any she'd ever seen from him. If she didn't know better, she'd say he was practically giddy with pride.

"A girl, huh? I bet she had you wrapped around her little finger the second she took her first breath." His grin grew larger and he chuckled before nodding.

"Aye. She was angry and squalling fit to be tied, but I've never felt ...pride and love like that before. I know it was just a dream, but..." He trailed off, then sighed before saying so wistfully her heart hurt to hear it, "It was a really nice one."

She couldn't speak for a moment, her throat tight with emotion at the thought of Killian Jones holding his daughter for the first time.

"So, you mentioned that I was being magnificent in this dream?" She was trying desperately to cover up the emotion that was flowing through her so swiftly at the images playing in her mind.

"I've never seen you more beautiful and powerful than in that moment. You were bloody amazing, love. But then again, you always are to me." There it was again, that lovely catch of her breath at his compliment.

"It does sound like a really nice dream, Killian." She whispered softly to him, sliding closer to his warmth so she could press a kiss against his forehead.

"Aye, it was, love. One of the best." He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer to him. They breathed the same air now, and the stillness of the moment settled around them like a blanket of comfort. She'd never tire of moments like this with him. They more than made up for all the crazy moments that filled her life as the Saviour.

"I love you." She whispered to him, watching his eyes flare at her words. She brushed her thumb along that perfect bottom lip that had distracted her as he slept, loving the way his breath hitched at her touch.

He pulled her into him, pressing his mouth to hers in one of those soft, hesitant kisses that they shared at times. Killian was a master of foreplay, understanding that for Emma, the build up was almost as important as the act itself. Soft kisses, distracting caresses, and flirtatious words that set her on fire like nobody's business and Hook was the master at driving her mad for him.

Her body, so recently satisfied, was quickly burning again. She was literally trembling with each touch of his lips on hers, the heat of his mouth intoxicating.

"I need you." He groaned, his hips connecting with hers abruptly and she could feel his hard desire trying to slide between her legs. She immediately opened herself to him, allowing him between her thighs. Reaching down, she grabbed at his ass, pulling him against her even further, needing him as badly as he needed her.

Poised at the entrance to her heat, he pulled back enough to remind her, "Condom, love."

Here it was, a moment that she'd often wondered about over the years. With Neal, she'd been so young and so had he, really. Having never known love like that before, she'd have done anything for him, thrown caution to the wind to be happy, and she had, one too many times with a lasting consequence.

And none of it had been her choice. Oh, he'd never forced her and she'd been willing, that was all true, but if she'd stopped, if she'd thought, if she'd been asked, she never would have allowed what happened to happen. Not with a boy who was hurting as deeply as she was. Not when she was only seventeen. Not when she couldn't make the ultimate choice to be a parent.

She had no regrets; she loved her son and wouldn't trade him for anything, but over the years, she'd often wondered if she'd ever have a moment to make the choice to be a parent from the very beginning like so many other people did, as her own parents had with her and with baby Neal. To look at the person you love and make the conscious decision to create a life together because the very thought of not having a perfect blend of your love in the world was too unbearable a thought.

Now, here it was, the moment she'd wondered if she'd ever experience. As she lay in the arms of her own true love, visions of a happy life with him filled her head, and she knew the answer, completely and utterly.

She leaned forward, kissing him softly as she slid her hand up to his hip and tugged impatiently against him.

"I love you." She whispered again as he pulled back, questions in his eyes. Her heart thudded in her chest as she waited for his reaction to her acquiescence. He'd never been more beautiful to her in that moment, the blue of his eyes ethereal in the soft morning light.

In that stillness between them, he lay his hand flat against her cheek then let her pressure on his hips guide his movement as he slid into her in one long glide. They both groaned at the sensation, Emma almost embarrassed at the slickness of her body for him. Her heart pounded as he filled her, stretching her body in a way that no one else had ever done.

When he was seated deep within her, he stilled his body. They lay there, joined in this intimate ritual that was as old as time. As was his way, he allowed her a moment to adjust to him and it wasn't long before she needed to feel his mouth against hers again. She leaned up, capturing his lips and sighing in welcome.

It started as a tender kiss, reminding her of a cold night in front of Granny's, before it descended into something more harsh and desperate. There was no finesse in their movements, teeth clicking together in their haste to be joined in this way as well. His hand had moved down to her hip; he was gripping her so tightly that there would be bruises there, but she didn't care. She welcomed the pressure he was creating, wanting him to mark her skin as deeply as he'd marked her soul.

Her leg was at an odd angle, allowing room for his hips between hers as they lay on their sides. He reached down to grab her thigh and pulled it up high to settle at his waist. She gasped as he slid his hand up the back of her leg and then around the curve of her ass. Another gasp, this one of surprise, when his hand slid to the cleft of her backside, the tip of one finger sliding over the puckered flesh he found there. It should embarrass her, shouldn't it, that he could touch her so intimately, but god, it didn't. She trusted him, completely, and he would never do anything she didn't want, would never do anything she wouldn't enjoy.

A harsh, desperate groan was pulled from his throat when she leaned forward to bite at the juncture where his shoulder met his throat.

"_Emma._" He panted, his neck arching back to allow her more access. It was only a moment before he moved his hand again, sliding it quickly to the apex of her thighs, parting her swollen flesh to find her throbbing center. With a sureness that never ceased to amaze her, he circled her clit a few times before finally stroking down with his fingernail. The sound she made at the sensation was completely unladylike and _God_, she needed him to move.

Gripping his hip again, she bit down on his bottom lip as she ground out a plea, "Move. Please, move."

He chuckled darkly, flexing his hips up into hers so that she felt the tip of him hitting her womb sharply before sliding almost all the way back out of her in a long, slow slide. It started then, the wonderful drag and pull of his body against hers. It had never been a beautiful act to her before him, and now, each touch, each kiss, each thrust of his hips into hers was enough to break her heart with the significance of it all.

He never stopped kissing her as they moved, his fingers continuing to move along her flesh as he stroked her deep within. He whispered encouragement to her, but the words were indistinct and lost among the haze of sensations she was feeling. Her body trembled as she tensed tighter and tighter with each slide of his body into hers.

"_Breathe, _Emma." He demanded and she obeyed without thought, a deep breath pulled into her lungs as he continued to move with relentless determination. She felt as if she was losing her grip on her sanity as all sound shifted to the background and white dots floated across her vision.

When her climax finally broke, it was like none she'd ever experienced. She felt the pull of her magic, that white heat that she had come to cherish, shooting under her skin, almost burning her with it's strength. It rippled in waves, combining with her orgasm and making her heart race. She might have shouted when it broke. She definitely swore as she shook with it.

She felt Killian, throbbing deep within her, his own limbs shaking against her. And then she _felt _him, his love surrounding her completely. It was nothing she'd ever felt before, and her eyes flew open, as he pulsed his release deep inside of her. In that moment, that singular moment of pleasure she knew that this time it was different, this time it was _life_.

As her pleasure slowly ebbed, her body relaxed against his. Killian pressed a kiss to her temple and then rolled to his back, taking her with him as he went. They lay there, arms and legs tangled amongst the blankets that half covered them. She was absolutely panting from her release, feeling as if she'd run a marathon.

She couldn't find the words to express what had just happened, couldn't find a way to ask him if he'd felt what she had. And then, as she struggled to breathe, she felt him shift against her. He nudged her onto her back softly, tenderly, as he propped his head up on his good hand, bringing his stump up to her stomach. He watched her face as he slid his damaged wrist against her stomach, a question on his flushed face. She wrapped her hand around him, holding him in place against her womb.

She nodded at the question that was in his eyes and then, when he slid down her body and pressed a kiss to the place where she'd indicated, she giggled and blinked back the sudden tears in her eyes.

"Best. Alarm. Ever." He murmured in between kisses to her stomach and she laughed out loud, his chuckle smoothly joining with hers.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <strong>Hook <strong>me up, lovelies! _


	11. Scratch

Just something I tossed together quick this morning. Slight M, but nothing too steamy. I'm sure there are typos galore, I was rushing. I'll come back and edit later.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but my opinions.

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><p><strong>Chapter Eleven: Scratch<strong>

Emma could hear the murmurs of her father, Elsa, and Hook outside of the bathroom door. She was currently leaning over the bathroom sink, head down, breathing through a wicked anxiety attack. It had been close, really damn close tonight, and she wasn't nearly as okay as she was trying to make everyone think she was.

After their run-in with the Snow Queen, they'd made their way back to the Sheriff's station to regroup. The adrenaline coursing through her veins had carried her back to her office, but as soon as she'd sat down at her desk, she'd crashed. Her shoulder stung from the wound she had sustained, beginning to burn something fierce and she had excused herself to the bathroom to check it out. As soon as she'd closed the door, she was on her knees in front of the toilet, retching up the remains of her lunch, body trembling with shock.

She'd almost lost them all back there. The Snow Queen had created her own ice storm with literal daggers of ice pelting at them. Emma had struggled against it, finally able to knock the bitch off her feet with help from Elsa and her own brand of ice magic. It had been close, real close, and she could feel the panic ricocheting through her even now, unable to pry it's grip loose from her body.

She took in deep gulps of air, pressing a clammy hand to her forehead, before pushing herself to stand and rinse out her mouth. Leaning against the sink, she stared down at the water pouring out of the faucet for several minutes, not able to look herself in the face, not wanting to see the terror she knew would be there. Damn it, she'd almost lost them, she'd almost failed.

The voices outside in the station became louder, her father's voice closer to the door. She tensed, knowing that he was coming to check on her and not willing to let him see that she was slowly falling apart. She heard him say her name, but then she heard Hook respond, obviously standing directly on the other side of the door.

"I'll check on her. Why don't you drop Elsa off with Mary Margaret and then swing back to pick us up?" There was a pause and then David agreed. She could hear the click of his boots and the soft slide of Elsa's slippers on the linoleum as they exited the building. There was a moment of silence and then a soft knock on the door.

"Swan? You alright in there?" She finally looked up at her reflection, noting the wild look in her eyes and the gray pallor of her skin.

"I'm fine. Be out in a sec." She responded, hoping she sounded normal.

"I hate to argue with you, love, but you've already been in there for half an hour." Damn, nothing like a good old panic attack to steal precious minutes of your life away. Minutes she didn't have to spare.

She turned to grab the doorknob in her sweaty palm, twisting feebly and losing her grip before pressing her forehead against the door.

"Get it together, Swan." She whispered to herself. Grasping the doorknob again, she twisted, opening the door to find a very concerned looking pirate on the other side.

"Emma." He breathed, stepping forward to place his hand on her waist. "Love, are you alright?" The concern in his eyes was almost more than she could bear. She opened her mouth to respond, but then he was suddenly pulling her into his arms and all she could do was press her forehead into the warmth of his neck.

She didn't know how long they stood there, but he finally pulled away enough to lift her chin with his hook, looking into her face for a moment before leading her back into the bathroom.

"Sit." He ordered, pointing to the closed toilet. After making sure she had indeed followed his order, he moved back out into the station, returning a few minutes later with the first aid kit in his hand. "First things first, Swan, we need to take care of that wound."

Placing the kit on the edge of the sink, he turned to her. Leaning over her, he pulled the neck of her pink sweater to the side, inspecting her collarbone and the surrounding area as best as he could in the dim lighting. She sucked a gulp of air into her lungs when she felt the sweater tug on her flesh where blood had dried it to her wound.

"You need to take this off, so I can properly assess the situation." He stood up to his full height, moving to remove his jacket and hang it on the back of the bathroom door. When he turned back to her, she hadn't moved, staring at her hands and biting her lip to keep back the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks.

"Emma." He said softly, hunkering down between her legs and peering up at her with concern. "Everyone's fine. You saved us, just like you always do."

"But I almost didn't. You could've...died." She gasped out the last word as the texture of it burned her tongue.

"But I didn't. And David and Elsa are fine. You were bloody magnificent today. I'm so proud of you." She looked up from where her hands were clenched in her lap to find one of those smiles on his face that she loved. It was the same smile he'd given her in Rumpelstiltskin's vault back in the past, when she'd gotten her powers back; a grin that said, I knew you could do it and damn, did you ever.

She gave him one of her own small smiles, feeling her stomach unclench slightly.

"That's better, love. Now off with that jumper." He ordered again, sliding his warm hand up from where he'd settled it on her knee along the top of her thigh to the hem of her sweater. It wasn't easy for him to try to lift it off her with just one hand, so she moved to help him. They were able to get it up to her neck, but she wasn't able to lift her injured shoulder up above her head, so he managed that for her. He apologized when he had to pull more of her sweater from her wound, her stomach turning at the sound of the blood soaked material tearing away from her skin.

He tossed the sweater onto the floor, his gaze going quickly to her shoulder to inspect her wound in more detail. She watched his face, watched as he flinched at the site, and she knew that it wasn't good.

"Are you in a lot of pain, Swan? Maybe we should get you to the hospital."

"It's just a scratch, Killian, I'm fine." His eyes flicked up to hers in disbelief, but then he swiftly looked back down as if trying to keep her from panicking.

"Alright then. Let's get this cleaned up a bit." He paused for a moment, leaning back on his heels and clearing his throat before saying, "Love, do you think you can remove these other items as well? I need to be able to dress the wound and they're in the way." He gestured to the straps of her camisole and bra, both which were stained with blood and quickly adhering to her skin like her sweater had.

She suddenly felt very lightheaded and quickly bent over, putting her head between her legs, breathing deeply to clear the fog from her mind.

"Emma?" Hook placed his hand between her shoulder blades, rubbing in small, soothing circles.

"I'm okay. Just need a moment." She reassured him. She heard him stand, heard the faucet turn on and then a cool, wet cloth was placed on the back of her neck. He held it there with his hook and went back to slowly rubbing her back with his hand. Another few deep breaths and she sat slowly up, smiling sheepishly at him.

"Sorry, I just got a little wobbly there for a second."

"Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital, love? Maybe we should just hop into your yellow vessel and drive over..."

"No, Killian, I'm fine. Really. I don't want anyone fussing over me. Please." She stared up at him, pleading with him to listen to her, just this once.

"Alright." He sighed, shaking his head, either at her for being stubborn or himself for giving into her, she wasn't entirely sure. "We need to get these things off, though." He turned, looking around the small bathroom in thought before reaching out to grab his jacket from where he'd hung it on the back of the door.

"Here, love. You can use this to keep yourself covered." Emma quirked an eyebrow in surprise at him. "What?"

"You're seriously not going to take advantage of this to get a little peek?" He sighed in exasperation, huffing a bit as he hunkered down in front of her again.

"Gazing on your loveliness for the first time while you are hurt and covered in blood is not how I pictured this moment, Swan. Give me a little credit. I am a gentleman, after all." She could see that she'd offended him. Reaching down with fingers that trembled, she trailed her hands along his scruffy jaw, smiling softly at him.

"You're always a gentleman." She agreed. He humphed, but seemed appeased by her touch. He gestured towards the straps of her remaining garments before asking, "Do you need help removing them?"

"I think I can get the camisole, but you'll need to undo the bra for me. I don't think I can reach behind myself to get to the clasp." He stood up, making room for her to do the same. She went slowly, placing a hand on his hip to steady herself as she stood. His own hand came to settle against her waist.

She was able to remove the camisole, pulling it up and over her head and then sliding it carefully over her wounded shoulder, keeping her eyes trained on his as best she could instead of looking at the blood again. He took the garment from her, dropping it on top of her ruined sweater. She took a deep breath, shuffling around so that her back was to him. He dropped his jacket on the edge of the sink, within easy reach, and then stepped up behind her.

If she took a deep breath, she would've felt the brush of his waistcoat against her skin, the feel of his buttons pressing into her, she was sure. He was warm, that she could feel even from several inches away, and he smelled like the outdoors, a mix of dried leaves, wind, and leather.

She waited a moment, her eyes sliding closed in anticipation of his touch. He wasn't the only one that had envisioned a moment like this. She often tried to picture the first time he'd remove her bra, the way his eyes might flare when he first looked on her or the way his breath might catch with the first touch of his hand to her breast. If it wasn't for the searing pain in her shoulder and the blood that was still slowly oozing from her open wound, she would seriously be a puddle of want on the bathroom floor. She still kinda was, to be honest.

He had placed his hand on her waist once she'd turned around and he now placed his hook against the small of her back. The coolness of the steel caused her to arch her back involuntarily, a gasp of surprise settling in the air around them.

"Okay, Swan?" He murmured and she felt his breath move the strands of her hair slightly. Not able to speak, she simply nodded her head.

He brought his hand up to the side of her neck, sliding it under the heft of her hair and gathering it before moving it over to her uninjured shoulder. He paused for a moment, bringing his fingers up to press against the top of her spine before sliding them down along each ridge to the top of her bra strap. She felt him finger the clasp for a moment as if trying to figure out how to work the mechanism one-handed. It didn't take him long, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger before popping it open. She felt it slacken against her shoulders and she pushed out the breath that she hadn't realized she was holding.

She was able to remove the strap easily from her wounded shoulder, but struggled to push it down her good shoulder. To do so, she had to use her bad arm, which was tantamount to sticking a dagger into her shoulder and twisting it at this point.

"Need a hand, love?" He teased, his voice soft and low. She snorted, rolling her eyes even though she knew he couldn't see her face.

She turned her head slightly to watch as he moved his hand up to her shoulder, grasping the strap before sliding it down along the length of her arm. The soft brush of his fingertips against hers shot an electric pulse up her arm and she immediately pressed herself back against him. Her bra dropped down to the floor, forgotten. She stood there, half-naked and vulnerable, quickly forgetting the pain in her shoulder as her nipples hardened with the brush of cool air against them.

She knew that if he looked down over her shoulder he'd see her, his first look at her naked form, but he didn't. Instead, he pressed a sweet kiss to the top of her spine then reached over to grab his jacket. He pressed it into her hands and stepped back, allowing her space to drape the soft leather around herself, which she quickly did.

Once discreetly covered, she turned back to him. She stared at the buttons of his waistcoat before slowly looking up to his face. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes blazing at her and she knew then that he was struggling hard with continuing to be a gentleman. There was a beat when their gazes locked and they just breathed together before he ordered her to sit again.

He grabbed a washcloth from under the sink, wetting it before beginning to wipe away the blood that covered her shoulder, collarbone, and upper chest. He was a gentle as possible, his touch tender, but when he finally moved to clean the wound itself, Emma couldn't help the way she tensed in preparation.

"Hold on to me, love." He ordered and she reached out with her good arm, bringing her hand to his side and curling her fingers in the fabric of his waistcoat to anchor herself.

"I'm sorry." He whispered before pressing the washcloth directly to the wound. Her eyes shut tight at the pain, her breath catching in her throat as it burned. It was horrible and she wondered at her decision to not go to the hospital. Maybe it was worse than just a scratch.

"Emma. _Breathe_." Hook ordered and she realized that she hadn't started back up again once she'd stopped. She obeyed, biting her lip as he continued to press against her.

When he finally pulled the cloth away to rinse out it, she couldn't help but watch as the water in the sink turned an ugly rust color. It turned her stomach and she squeezed her eyes shut one more time, breathing through the sudden nausea. He came back to her, continuing to wash away the blood, commenting that the bleeding was slowing, a good sign. She lost track of time, sitting before him as he cleansed her, the pain slowly ebbing under his delicate ministrations.

"I think that's most of it. You're right, Swan, it's a healthy scratch, is all. I don't believe you need sutures, although I'd rather a trained professional make that assessment." She shook her head, daring to look over at her shoulder. He was right, it was just a deep scratch, starting from the top of her shoulder and stopping just under her collarbone. She suspected most of the pain in her shoulder came from the impact the icicle of doom had made when it rammed into her shoulder.

"It could've been a lot worse." She commented, reaching up to poke at the end of the wound. He grabbed her fingers in his hand, squeezing tightly before murmuring in a dark voice,

"Aye. It could've been _a lot_ worse."

She caught the tension suddenly running through his body, his voice straining with it. Realizing that she wasn't the only one that had been scared during their battle, she looked at him, smiling softly before leaning down to give him a warm kiss as he knelt in front of her.

"I'm okay, Killian." She settled back, noticing how some of the fear had left his eyes. He cleared his throat, reaching down to his jacket pocket and pulling his flask from it.

"Oh god." She groaned. She knew what came next.

"We need to disinfect it, Swan. No use in grumbling about it. Here." He offered the bottle to her and she took a healthy swig, enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat. He took the bottle back from her, finding another clean cloth under the sink before dousing it with the rum. "Hold on to me again, love."

She grabbed at his waist, pressing her forehead against his chest, not really caring how hard it was for him to access her shoulder now that she was pressed so closely into him.

"Deep breath, Emma." He whispered and when he heard her gulp in response, he pressed the cloth into the wound. She moaned against him, almost sobbing with the searing pain, but she didn't pull away. When he finally pulled the cloth away moments later, she breathed deeply and sagged against him.

"Almost done, Swan. Just have to dress it now." He helped her sit back up, standing and turning back to the first aid kit. She watched as he prepped the bandages, marveling at how easily he worked with one hand and his hook. He asked her to hold the bandage against the wound so that he could secure it in place and when that was done, he stepped back to inspect his handiwork.

"Not bad." She nodded in agreement, looking down to her shoulder. She pressed down one corner of the bandage, the tape having popped up slightly. Suddenly, his arms came up around her, pulling her to her feet and tight into his chest. Surprised by the movement, she lost her tight grip on his jacket and it pooled at their feet.

"Killian?" She asked softly, feeling him tremble against her. She was pressed into him so tightly that she could barely breathe, the buttons of his waistcoat digging into her stomach. He was careful not to put any pressure on her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist and holding her there.

His face was pressed into the mass of her hair, and when he murmured to her it was hard for her to catch the words.

"You need to stop scaring me like that, Swan. I don't think my heart can take it." She wrapped her good arm around him, trying to comfort him as best she could when she heard the catch in his voice. Her hand made it's way up to the back of his head, her fingers weaving into the thick strands of his hair as she soothed him.

"I'm okay, Killian. I'm okay." He didn't respond, just held her tighter.

They seemed to both become aware at the same time that the door of the bathroom was still standing open and she was half-naked and pressed intimately against him. He pulled back slightly, glancing over at the open doorway and then down to where her breasts were pressed so enticingly up against him. It should be extremely awkward, but somehow, she just wanted him to close the door and finish undressing her now that her wound was wrapped and the blood was washed away.

"You know, you're the cutest nurse I've ever had." She teased. He dragged his gaze up from her breasts, lingering on her mouth for a moment.

"And you're the sexiest patient I've ever had." He responded, leaning down to capture her mouth with his. His tongue was soft and silky, as he brushed against her bottom lip, enticing her to open her mouth to him. It wasn't long before she was sighing against him, her pain and panic forgotten as he let his fingers and hook trail along her back.

It was the remains of the adrenaline running through them, lowering their inhibitions, so that they kissed with abandon, not worried in the slightest that anyone, including her father, could interrupt them at any time._ That_ thought gave her pause and when he slid his hand from her back, inching slowly towards her breast, she pushed gently on his chest to stop him.

"There's a shirt in my desk drawer. Bottom left. Grab it for me?" He nodded, leaning forward to drop a kiss on the tip of her nose before reaching down to grab his jacket from the floor. He was careful not to look as she pulled it back up to cover herself, turning his back as she settled down on the toilet seat again.

He went for the shirt, taking a few minutes before coming back with it thrown across his arm. It was the uniform shirt that Graham had tried to get her to wear. She'd never had the heart to get rid of it, hideous though it was. Hook handed it to her, oblivious to its meaning. She was able to shrug one arm into it, but not the injured one. The thought of trying to move her shoulder to get her arm into the armhole was suddenly too much and she simply pulled the front of the shirt closed, her bad arm pulled close to her body.

Killian hunkered down in front of her again, reaching for the buttons of the shirt. "This might take me a minute, love." He said, a flush coloring his cheeks as he worked on sliding the buttons of the shirt into each hole. She watched the slow progress he made, marveling that he did this every day that he dressed, and then marveling again that he hadn't switched to t-shirts when he updated his wardrobe. It was like he had something to prove, choosing clothes that had so many damn buttons on them.

When he reached the top two buttons of the shirt, he stopped, leaning forward to press an open mouthed kiss to the skin left exposed between her breasts.

"I could get used to this look, Swan." He grinned up at her, his sexy smirk firmly in place. She snorted, rolling her eyes at his cheek.

"Dork." She murmured before leaning down to press a lingering kiss against his mouth. "Thank you. For being here." She said as she pulled back from him.

"There's no other place I'd rather be, love. You can't just let anyone tend to your scratches." He helped her to her feet, stopping to grab her jacket from her office and wrapping it around her shoulders as they made their way outside the station.

He was right, she thought to herself as they waited for David to pick them up. There was no one better in this world to help tend to her wounds, both inside and out, than the pirate beside her.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>**Hook **_me up, lovelies! _


	12. Drizzle (M)

This was a fun one to write. Definitely rated M.

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><p>Disclaimer: I own nothing but my opinions (and hopefully, my sanity).<p>

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><p><strong>Chapter Twelve: Drizzle<br>**

Emma stretched luxuriously along the length of the couch, her feet bumping against Killian's legs as she settled into a more comfortable position. He shifted a bit, making room for her to slide closer to him as she slouched down against the pillow at her back.

He was at the opposite end of her couch, sharing a blanket and reading a book about modern day pirates, which she found incredibly cute. Her own book, a beat up copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone_, had fallen into her lap as she stretched. Why she felt the need to read it when she had more than enough magic in her own life was beyond her. Although, it might have something to do with the fact that she identified with the boy wizard. Bad guy threatening to kill your loved ones, evil plans to take over the world, big old, scary destiny to save said world? That didn't sound **_at all_** familiar to her.

She could hear the wind whipping against the windows of the apartment, the weather alternating between sleet and snow as it raged outside. She was happy to be warm and safe on her couch, instead of out patrolling with her father. She and Killian had come down with a bad cold a week ago; fever, chills, stuffed-up noses, endless cough. It had put them out of commission and David had taken on extra shifts to cover the slack. While she hated being sick and feeling useless, it was kinda nice to be able to stay in her pajamas all day and nap whenever she wanted.

"I fail to see how you can actually read any of that book if you keep staring at me, love." Killian quirked an amused eyebrow in her direction, not taking his eyes from his own book as he slowly flipped a page.

He was still all stuffed up, his voice scratchy and low, the tip of his nose red from repeatedly blowing it over the past couple of days. She knew she looked about the same, although she had been happy to see some healthy color returning to her cheeks over the course of the day. They'd be back at it in another day or two, the worst of their illness having passed them at this point.

"I've already read it twice before." She responded, fingering the worn cover lovingly.

She looked up, catching Killian watching her, affection clear in his gaze. She smiled easily at him, wondering not for the first time, what he saw when he looked at her like that with his blue eyes intense and stormy. And sometimes when she smiled back at him, his breath would catch and his eyes would sweep the whole of her face as if he'd never seen anything quite like her before. It always made her stomach drop and her toes curl with happiness.

Suddenly, his own book was on the coffee table, his placed saved with a bookmark that Henry had given him. He settled against the pillow at his back, hand pressed against her kneecap as he pondered her quietly.

"You're looking better, love."

"I'm feeling better. Kinda restless, though."

"Hmmm. Perhaps you're up for making those ice cream sundaes that Henry recommended?"

"You know, that's not actually a thing. He just said it would make us feel better because he wanted to have junk food in the house."

"The lad had a fair point about ice cream soothing scratchy throats."

"He'll be annoyed we made them when he wasn't here."

"What Henry doesn't know won't hurt him, love." He grinned then, dimple sliding in and out easily. And how in the world could she even think about saying no when he smiled at her like that?

"Oh, alright." She pushed against Killian's legs so that she could stand, righting her pajamas from where they had twisted around her. She stretched a hand down to Killian, grasping his warm hand in hers and helping to haul him to his feet before making their way to the kitchen.

She set about grabbing the ingredients for the sundaes, pulling items from the fridge and cupboards, spreading them out along the counter as she went.

"Do you want fudge or caramel sauce?" She asked Killian, turning to hold up both jars so he could choose.

"Which are you going to have?" Emma thought for a moment before deciding. "Caramel."

"Then I shall choose the fudge."

"Alright, but you don't get to eat mine when you decide you like the caramel better." He gave her a noncommittal shrug, bumping into her as she made her way towards the microwave to eat up the sauces.

"Which goes better with fudge sauce, Swan, vanilla or chocolate?" He asked her, peering into the freezer with his hands on his hips as he pondered his choice of ice cream flavors.

"Oh, live a little, Hook. Do both." She grinned over at him, removing the hot jar of caramel sauce from the microwave and replacing it with the chocolate, setting the timer before dipping a spoon into the caramel sauce and stirring. When the microwave dinged, she pulled out the fudge sauce as well, stirring it swiftly before lifting the warm spoon to her mouth and licking up the dark chocolate.

"Oh. So good." She moaned happily. Normally, she didn't keep junk like this in the apartment, but she'd had no energy to deny Henry when he'd made the suggestion in the store. She'd been so sick, her throat throbbing and her head pounding, and the thought of the cold ice cream sounded so amazing in that moment that she easily gave in.

She turned back to see how much progress Killian had made with the ice cream. He was still standing in front of the open freezer, hands on his hips, but he'd turned to stare at her instead of scooping it into the waiting bowls. Even standing a few feet away, she could see how his pupils were blown wide, the clear blue of his irises barely visible. His lips were slightly open, his tongue lodged firmly in the corner of his mouth. The expression on his face reminded her of how his past self had looked up at her as she leaned over him, nearly spilling out of her dress.

"Killian?" She asked, hesitant at the look in his eyes. It was almost...feral.

He was across the room in two short steps, pressing her back against the counter and kissing her so quickly she didn't even have a chance to brace for the impact of his body. His tongue was rough, intrusive, but she didn't mind. He groaned against her as he kissed her, hand tangling in the hair at the back of her head, hips grinding sensuously against hers. He held her head in place, licking along the seam of her lips, then delving deeply to chase the taste of chocolate along her tongue.

When he finally pulled away, she could only pant against him, loving the way his thumb brushed along her swollen bottom lip. When he spoke, his voice was husky, breathless, and her stomach clenched at the sound.

"Do that again."

"Do _what_ again?" She asked, dazed and confused by his kiss.

"Lick. The. Damn. Spoon. Again." He punctuated each word with a grind of his hips into hers and she groaned at feeling him hard and throbbing against her. "The caramel this time." He added as an afterthought.

She bit her lip, smiling shyly up at him, before turning to grab the warm jar of caramel sauce from its spot on the counter. She dipped her spoon into the jar, holding a hand under it as she brought it to her mouth, the caramel sliding slowly down the spoon's handle and along her fingers. He watched every movement she made, watched as a drop of sauce fell to her palm, watched as she slowly licked the back of the spoon. She took her time, loving the way his dark gaze was glued to her mouth.

Before she could flip the spoon over to lick the front, he was kissing her again. Another groan left her throat as he kissed her slowly this time, his tongue lazily sliding against hers. When he finally pulled away from her mouth, he gave her one of those heart stopping smirks before leaning over her up-turned palm. He hummed softly in the back of his throat before pressing his tongue to the dime-sized drop of caramel she had caught there. Her body jerked at the feeling of his satiny tongue as he imitated the technique he usually reserved for playing between her thighs. She swallowed, her head dropping back against the cabinet behind her as she watched him.

When he had completely licked up all the caramel, he looked back up at her, cheeks flushed and lips red and swollen.

"Are you attached to this particular top, love?" She looked down and shrugged. She hadn't done laundry in a few days and it had been the only clean pair of pajamas left in her dresser. It was one of her older sets, not in the rotation too often anymore.

"Not really."

"Marvelous." He purred, grasping her collar in his hand, his hook tearing into the other side as he yanked it open, buttons popping off and skittering across the kitchen floor.

"Hook! What are you...oh!" She hadn't noticed that he had picked up the jar of chocolate sauce. He held it above her left breast for a moment, tilting it slowly so that the warm contents slid over the lip of the jar and onto her nipple. He let the sauce drizzle down along the crest of her breast, watching the sinfully dark sauce cover her nipple.

"Oh, god." She moaned when he dipped his mouth down to lick along her pebbled flesh. She bumped her head against the cabinet again, wrapping her hand around the back of his head, holding him to her. He sucked her nipple into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue as he suckled her.

"Can't forget the other side." He murmured when he had managed to completely clean the sauce from her, nuzzling her breast with his nose before grabbing the caramel sauce and repeating the process on the other side. They both groaned in delight as he suckled her right breast, his hand grabbing at her hip, so that he could grind against her again.

When he had cleaned her skin completely, he stood and captured her mouth. He tasted like caramel, dark and sweet, and she moaned into him as he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, palming the weight of her breast in his palm and massaging it tenderly.

"Pants. Off." He ordered, his voice deeper than normal due to his cold. This shouldn't be sexy, she thought to herself. They were both sick, noses red and plugged up, with crazy bed hair and rattles in their chests when they coughed, but she'd never been more turned on than she was right now.

He brought his hook to her side, sliding the tip of it under the waistband of her pajama pants before tugging impatiently on them. She reached up, helping to push them quickly down her hips and legs, kicking them off. She loved the way his eyes flared as she stood naked before him, his desire darkening every angle of his beautiful face.

"Up you get." He grasped her waist, helping her to jump up and settle on the counter top.

"You are_ so _cleaning up later." She whispered, loving the saucy wink he gave her as he pulled her closer to the edge of the counter. He stepped between her thighs, letting her wrap her legs around his waist. His hand brushed against her cheek, his touch soft and tender.

"I love you." He whispered and she stilled against him. "I think I may have loved you since the first moment I set eyes on you."

"Well, that's romantic. Dead bodies and everything?"

"Emma. I'm baring my soul right now. The least you can do is tone down the snark a bit, love."

"Oops. Sorry." She ducked her head, cheeks blazing, fingers tugging on the waistband of his pajama pants as she tried to tug him closer to her. "Please continue."

He leaned in, kissing the tip of her nose, the expression in his blue eyes unreadable as he replied, "Another time. Now, where were we?"

He let his eyes trail along her body, his hand pressing her back against the cabinet so that he could see more of her. She was completely vulnerable in this position, not able to move since she was perched precariously on the edge of the counter. She had to grip his shoulders to keep her balance, her legs around his waist helping to keep her stable as well.

He trailed his hand down along her breast, palming it in his warm hand, tweaking the nipple until she tensed at the slight twinge of pain. Leaning forward, he sucked it into the soothing warmth of his mouth, licking tenderly to take away her pain. Once he felt her relax, he stood back to take in the now turgid peak of her breast before continuing to slid his hand down her body, pausing to trace along her toned stomach in admiration.

"You are a bloody marvel, Swan." She smiled at the husky note of his voice, loving the way her stomach swooped at the sound.

"You're not so bad yourself, Hook." He smirked up at her as if to say, "I know" before sliding his hand to the apex of her thighs, his eyes watching the progress he made across her skin. He gripped her thigh, pushing lightly so that she'd open up to him more. He stared down in fascination at her sex, his tongue sliding out to trail along his bottom lip.

"You're glistening already for me, love." He smugly murmured.

She felt her cheeks redden, warmth spreading across her face and down her neck. She watched as Killian dipped his finger to her center, feeling him brush down along the hood of her clit then back up. He teased her, never putting too much pressure where she was throbbing for him, using featherlight touches to her clit before sliding his finger down between her folds and then back up to tease her clit some more.

"Care to experiment a little, sweetheart?" God, she _loved_ when he emphasized his "T's" like that. Who knew such a thing would get her wet and pulsing for him, but it did. Every time.

"Okay." She was quick to agree, having learned from their first night together that he liked to try new things with her, especially things that neither of them had done before. She liked that, too, she had to admit. Knowing that she was the first to do something with him, given his vast history and experience, was extremely intoxicating.

Leaning over, he grabbed the jar of caramel sauce, giving her a sexy grin as he placed it close to her leg. He held her open to him, hook pressing lightly against her inner thigh as he dipped his index finger into the caramel, pulling it out with a healthy blob on the tip. He brought it to her mouth, sliding it along her bottom lip until she sucked him into her mouth, sucking off every drop of the sauce. He watched her, his eyes dark with lust.

He slid his finger from her mouth, leaning forward as he gripped her thigh hard in his hand and swiped his tongue along her bottom lip. "I do believe the caramel is my favorite." He whispered to her, his breath sweet against her mouth.

When he pulled away again, Emma groaned at the loss. She watched as he dipped his finger back into the caramel sauce, gathering a bit of it there before bringing his hand back down to her sex. He lingered for a moment then let the blob of sauce drip onto her clit. It was pleasantly warm, slipping along her slick flesh, and she leaned back against the cabinets again, tilting her hips so that he could watch as the sticky sweetness covered her.

She held her breath, praying that he was about to do what she thought he was. She almost sobbed with joy when he bent over, breathing against her before sucking her clit into the heat of his mouth. "Killian!" She cried out, reaching out to grab at the back of his head, holding him in place as he licked the sauce away from her.

"Mmmm." He moaned against her, grabbing onto her hip with his hand, pressing his hook against the small of her back as if he wanted to pull her into his mouth. She undulated against him, loving the feel of his tongue moving along her, licking up every drop of the caramel. When he had licked her clean, he stood to kiss her again, moaning into her mouth as his teeth clicked against hers. She could taste herself on his tongue, her tangy flavor combined with the caramel. She couldn't help but moan along with him.

"Again." She whispered to him when he stopped to press his forehead against hers to catch his breath. He nodded, gathering more of the caramel from the jar and smearing it across her nipple before sucking it off, humming as he did so. He gathered more onto his finger, sliding it thickly along her folds and then bending down to cleanse her again.

She was moaning now in one long shuddering gasp, raking her fingers along his shoulders and the back of his head as he made love to her with his mouth. If she stopped to actually think about this, she knew she'd be cringing at how completely unhygienic it was, but god, was it hot. When he had again cleaned her of the caramel, he stood, his eyes blazing as he took in the sight of her, legs spread, chest heaving, hair a tumbled down mess.

"Bedroom. Now." He growled at her, reaching up to help her slide down along his hard body. She giggled when he lightly slapped her ass and pointed her in the direction of the bedroom. Looking over her shoulder at him, she smiled as he tore his t-shirt above his head and followed her, his pajama pants left in the doorway to their room.

Just as she was about to jump onto their bed, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest, his hard length pressed between the cheeks of her ass. He bit along her neck, his tongue soothing the teethmarks that he left on her sensitive skin.

"Have I ever told you that you have a delectable ass, Swan?" He murmured against her neck, flexing his hips. She couldn't help but press back against him.

"No." She breathed out, loving the feel of him hard and hot against her. When he stepped back and then pressed her forward with his hook between her shoulder blades, she leaned on her hands and spread her legs, twitching her behind at him teasingly. He groaned at the sight, causing her to giggle breathlessly at him over her shoulder.

When he stepped closer to her again, she was expecting him to push her further along the bed, so that he could kneel behind her. Instead, she felt him slid swiftly into her, seating himself deeply, her slick arousal making her more than ready for his intrusion. She grunted at the feel of him, hard and thick, within her.

"Well, you do." He groaned, pulling his hips back and then sliding deep into her again. He wrapped his hand around her hip, his hook still pressed between her shoulder blades as he ground against her, quickly finding a rhythm to please them both.

"Fuck." He whispered darkly, his voice coming out on a raspy sigh of pleasure.

He was so good at this, she thought to herself. She'd often found that men had a hard time with this position, the sensations too intense for them, often leaving her unsatisfied. Killian was the exact opposite. She could tell from the moans and curses that spilled from his mouth that he was enjoying himself, but he always held back from finding his own release until she had found hers. He was a selfless lover, always seeking her pleasure first before reaching for his own.

She was a very lucky woman.

His cock slid in and out of her, the rhythm he had found swiftly propelling her towards her release. When he leaned forward and wrapped his hand around her leg to reach between her thighs, she spread her legs a little bit more for him. He was able to slide his fingers between her folds, the slickness of her arousal quickly coating his fingertips. It only took one or two swipes along her clit and she was crying out her release, dropping her forehead down to the mattress as she shook around him.

"That's it, Emma." She heard him whisper, his hips continuing to push her through her climax. When it finally ended, he pulled back from her and she plopped wearily down on the bed, flipping onto her back and reaching out a hand to him. He stood before her, tall and imposing, the light from the doorway creating a silhouette around his dark figure.

Grasping her hand, he pulled her closer to the edge of the bed. She propped her feet up on the edge, holding herself open to him and pulling him towards her. He slid quickly back into her waiting body, moaning as he settled into the cradle of her thighs. He held himself above her for a moment, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Killian?" She asked, trailing her fingers along his beard, loving the scent of caramel and sex that covered his skin.

"I meant what I said before. I've loved you since the moment you held that damn knife to my throat." She paused at the gruff sound to his voice, hearing the emotion behind the words. "Do you even know what you do to me?"

He flexed his hips then, hitting her deep inside. She moaned, her back arching off the bed, her eyes sliding shut at the feeling of him seated so deeply within her. He hovered over her mouth, watching the pleasure dance across her skin at each of his controlled thrust into her body.

"Tell me you love me, Emma." He pleaded, kissing her softly, sweetly. Not able to hold anything back from him, she whispered the words he needed to hear.

"I love you, Killian. I love you."

He buried his face against her, biting down into the sinews of her neck as he began to piston his hips into hers. A few more solid thrusts and he tensed above her, a shaky moan pressed into her as he came deep within her. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he dropped down against her, panting thickly in the aftermath of his release.

He finally pulled away from her and settled next to her when a rough wracking cough shook her. She was suddenly extremely tired, the amount of exercise she'd just gotten the most activity she'd had in almost a week. He helped her snuggle under the blankets before leaving her to clean the kitchen. When his chore was complete, he climbed into the bed beside her, his weary head dropping to his pillow, his hand seeking out her hip to hold on to as they drifted to sleep.

She couldn't help but blush the next day when Henry spied the near empty container of caramel sauce and demanded to know why they'd had ice cream sundaes without him.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>**Hook **_me up, lovelies! _


	13. Heartbeat (M)

_Disclaimer: I own nothing but my opinions._

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><p><strong>Chapter Thirteen: Heartbeat<strong>

She stares at him, a roaring in her ears as she tries to process what he's just told her. She wants to run, wants to hide from the truth of his words, but the anguish on his face prevents her from moving. He takes a step toward her, his hand stretching out as he begs for her forgiveness.

She's not sure which hurts more, the fact that he's been lying to her or the fact that his heart is missing, his death assured. Tears flood her eyes as she stares into the vibrant blue of his, the pain she sees there no doubt reflecting the pain in hers.

He's telling her about a magic hat that Gold possesses. She tries to follow his explanation, but all she can think is that he sounds ridiculous (a magic fucking _hat_? Really? How is this her life?). She can't process it, shaking her head to shut out what he's saying. One of her tears breaks free, matching the one that slides down his cheek as he apologizes over and over again, his voice breaking as he suddenly reaches out and pulls her tight to his chest.

For a moment, she can't move, but then she's wrapping her arms around him. She takes a deep, shuddering breath, swallowing a sob as she clings to his solid weight. He's pressing his face against her neck, whispering over and over that he's sorry.

There's a scream stuck in her throat, trying to claw its way out. All she can do is to pull him tighter against her, breathing through the agony that's raging through her chest. When she's finally able to speak, her whisper is rough as she asks the only question that seems to matter in this moment, "Why?_" _And she's not entirely sure if she's asking him why he didn't tell her earlier or if she's asking him why this is happening to her, to them.

She realizes when he cradles her face in his hand that she's been repeating the question over and over again for long moments now. Then he's kissing her, trying to pull her question into the heat of his mouth, trying to take her panic away.

She grabs the lapels of his jacket, the leather creaking under her fingers as she yanks him closer. The kiss is desperate, frantic, messy, and he's moaning apologies into her mouth as their teeth crash together. He tastes like rum and sorrow, his kiss bruising her. All she can think is that she doesn't want this to be the last kiss that they share, doesn't want this to be the last memory of him that she has.

She feels lightheaded when she finally pulls away from him, staring up into the anguished blue of his eyes. Her heart is racing, her chest aching with the sobs that she's holding back.

"Emma?" He whispers. Tears smear the black that he's meticulously lined his eyes with and she thinks, insanely, that she should buy him some waterproof eyeliner for Christmas. A hysterical laugh that turns into a sob escapes her and she presses her hand across her mouth to try and hold it in. "Emma, love, I'm sorry." He says yet again, his fingers digging into the back of her head.

She can't take it, can't take the weight of this moment any longer. Pushing against his chest, she pulls away, turning abruptly on her heel. She breathes, one deep, rattling gasp after another until she no longer feels lightheaded and her heartbeat begins to calm.

When she turns back to him, the tears are gone and her jaw clenches in determination. She's made her decision, knows what she has to do now. Hands balled into tight fists, she feels her magic crackling like static electricity in her fingers.

"Where is he?" She demands as she glares at him. There's a pause as he stares back at her and she knows he's trying to figure out a way to hold back the information, deciding perhaps that he's keeping her safe by not telling her.

"Where. Is. He?" She repeats, her voice jagged with the scream she's holding back. He shakes his head, a frown marring the beauty of his face.

"I'll not have you going after the Crocodile, Swan. He's already tried to suck you into that bloody hat once. There's no telling what he'll do in order to try again."

"You don't get a say in this, Hook. Not after you've lied to me." She can barely get the words out, bitterness twisting her lips as she speaks them. The wrecked expression on his face pulls at her heart and she bites back another rush of tears.

"I know I've broken your trust, but you have to listen to me, Swan. He's a man possessed. There's no telling what he'll do to get what he wants. And what he wants is you."

"He has to be stopped."

"It doesn't have to be you, Emma. Not this time." He's breathing harshly, panic making his eyes wide.

"I'm the Savior. Of course it has to be me." She snaps.

"Emma, _please_." He's begging her now, hand reaching out to her although he doesn't move any closer as magic sparks from the tips of her fingers.

She wants to be furious with him. She wants to rage at him for revealing so much of his heart to Gold, for giving Gold power over himself, over _them_. But every time the anger starts to overwhelm her, she thinks about Gold crushing his heart and that single thought wipes out any anger she has over his unintentional betrayal.

There will be time enough to be angry with him once she's saved his stupid ass, she thinks, and that realization settles her. He'll still be in her life, he'll still be by her side. She can be properly angry then and he can make it up to her. _A lot_.

But for now, she needs him to understand that his choice, his desire to be a better man for her, didn't end them. She gets it, gets what he wanted to do even if it was more than a little misguided (since when did she ever care that he only had one hand? It had never mattered to her. How could he not know that?). He'd made a bad decision and then didn't trust her enough to tell her, didn't believe she could understand his insecurities. They'd have to talk about that when this was over, after she'd pushed his heart back into his chest, and had throttled him for not having more faith in her.

As she realizes all of this, hope blooms in her heart and she feels it soothe her fear, her anger and her magic quieting. In that moment, hope is all that matters to Emma Swan.

"It has to be me." She repeats, stepping closer to him. She takes in his beloved face, her eyes sliding from his eyes to his mouth and back up again before she tells him why it _has_ to be her. "Gold has something that belongs to me and I want it back. Your heart, Killian. It is mine. Isn't it?"

There's a pause and then he's pulling her back into his arms, his mouth devouring hers. She can't breathe, but she doesn't care as she desperately kisses him back.

It's always been like this between them, she thinks as he grabs her ass and pulls her tight to him. The intensity she feels at the barest brush of his body against hers is more than just physical attraction, though. He sees right through her, cares for her despite her faults and insecurities and she's drawn to him because of that. He makes her feel raw and exposed and _safe _all at the same time.

She's never known anything like it, never known anyone like him. She can't lose him, she _can't, _she thinks over and over again as she tangles her fingers into his hair, as she moans his name against his lips. How is it possible that he can still kiss her like this when his heart isn't even in his chest?

He's suddenly pinning her into the wall behind her, his hand reaching down to grab her thigh as he pulls her leg up to settle on his hip. He's pressing against her then, his rigid length sliding roughly against her. It'd be so easy to give into this. So easy to let him push into her and ease the agony she's feeling, if only for a few blissful moments.

But she doesn't want him like this, damaged and incomplete. She doesn't want their first time to be filled with guilt and remorse. She deserves better and so does he.

Her decision made, she pushes against his chest and he quickly stops, anxious about doing anything to upset her further. She brings her hand to his cheek, marveling at how steady it is since her insides are trembling like mad.

"Not like this." She whispers. Pressing her hand against the empty space where his heart should be, she feels the false beats thumping against her. They're just an echo of the strong beats she's felt before. They're lies that could destroy her, if she lets them.

"When I win your heart, Killian, and I will win it..." She pauses, watches the flash of recognition as his words leave her mouth. "Well, _that's _when the fun begins." A hesitant smile breaks across his face then.

"I believe what I actually said was 'And when I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery, it will be because you want me."

"You were right, did you know?" She whispers, her smile now matching his. "I _do_ want you for you, Killian. Or haven't you figured that out yet?" There's no anger now, only determination and a calm knowledge that she won't give up until she's helped him fix this. She is her parent's daughter, after all.

He's pressing into her again, hiding his tears as he kisses her. She's amazed at how strong she feels, that he's the one who trembles and leans into her for support. She revels in her strength, in his dependence. This is how a relationship works, she thinks. It's a two way street and it'll never be successful if they can't both be weak with each other, if they can't both be strong _for _each other.

His voice shakes when he whispers that he loves her, his words urgent against her neck, her collarbone. Her heart beats hard at the words, a warm ache filling the space beneath her breast. When he leans down and presses his ear against her chest to listen to the beat there, she sighs and threads her fingers into his dark hair.

"It's strong enough for both of us." She murmurs, loving the way he wraps his arms around her and clings so tightly that she can barely breathe. Time slows as they hold each other.

When he pulls away, she can see that he's calmer and his jaw is set in a determined line. He tells her where Gold is and they start to plan their attack. It's a scheme after the Crocodile's own heart, twisted and manipulative, except that in the end, _love_ will conquer all. Of that, Emma has no doubt.

With Hook by her side, and her father, Regina, and Elsa at her back, she faces Gold. There's no fear, no anger, only love and hope fueling her magic then. It's not anything that Gold had prepared for, not anything he expected. She wonders, afterwards, how he could have understood so little about the power of true love.

And when their battle is over and her family safe, she holds Killian to her in the privacy of his room. His heart beats so strong and fast, racing in tandem with hers as he whispers words of thanks and love into her skin. There's such heat in his touch, in his kiss, that she vaguely worries that she'll burst into flame. The adrenaline flowing through her veins heightens each caress, ignites a passion that is anything but complicated.

He brings none of his cockiness to their first time. The expression on his face is earnest and sweet, his emotions softening the sharp angles of his face. She's only seen glimpses of him like this a few times before: in Neverland when he told his secret in the Echo Cave, when he said goodbye at the town line a year go, when he asked for another date outside her parent's loft. The enormity of seeing him so exposed is not lost on her. She thanks him with long, deep kisses on every inch of his skin, appreciating his salty taste as she lingers above his rigid flesh.

Her back arches when he moves down her body, kissing her stomach and trailing his lips lower and lower to her sex. The first touch of his tongue steals her breath and she almost can't handle the pleasure he gives her. _Almost. _

He makes love to her with his lips and tongue, moaning when he feels her break against him. Then he's kissing her mouth again, entering her swiftly and stilling in the cradle of her thighs as he holds himself above her. The expression in his eyes is almost more than she can bear, tears gathering in hers at the way he fills her so completely.

There's no pretense here as he throbs inside her. There are no walls between them now, no secrets left to tell. He loves her and she loves him, a fact she whispers up to him as she brushes against the scar on his cheek. She gasps and then sighs when he finally moves, his eyes never leaving hers as his hips flex up into her.

It's never been like this before, she thinks as he slides so easily, so deeply within her heat.

They don't last long, the months of flirting and wanting all the foreplay they need. The ecstasy of his embrace, of his love, shatters her into a million pieces around him. She digs her fingers into his hips when she finds her release, his name slipping from her mouth into the quiet of the room. He watches as she comes undone, the blue of his eyes smeared with tears of his own as he follows closely behind her.

This moment is bliss beyond all measure. It tears her down and builds her back up all within the safety of his arms. How she ever breathed, ever _lived_, before experiencing him like this is a mystery. She's ruined for any other man now that she knows what loving Killian Jones is like.

He drops his head to her breast, not able to hold himself above her any longer. His heart is racing and she counts the frantic beats under her palm.

It's never been like this before, she thinks again as she holds him.

The truth of it is in every beat of his heart, in each beat of hers, and she whispers fiercely to him as she presses her hand tighter to his chest,

"Mine. _**Always**__._"

He lifts his head from her breast to stare up at her then. He looks a little dumbstruck before he leans up to catch her lips with his. When he pulls back, he places his hand over her heart and whispers back just as fiercely,

"Yours. **_F_**_**orever **_my love."

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>**Hook **_me up, lovelies!_


	14. Tease (M)

_Just a little something to hopefully help ease the angst of tonight's episode. Definitely smutty and sweet. Let's assume for all of our sanities that Emma has her own place, Killian has his heart, and the Snow Queen has been vanquished, resulting in time to appreciate a "good moment."_

_Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: If you don't know it by now, you probably never will; I don't anything, but my opinions._

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><p><strong>Chapter Fourteen: Tease<strong>

Emma is sitting on the edge of the tub, towel wrapped tightly around her, hair hanging in wet tendrils down her back. She'd been about to squirt lotion onto her freshly shaved legs, but the task had quickly been forgotten when a half-dressed pirate had sauntered into her bathroom. Said pirate was now standing in front of her sink, peering into the mirror above it, his chest bare and jeans riding low on his slim hips.

He's such a tease, she thinks to herself as she watches him. He looks good and he knows it, flaunting all that flesh and chest hair at her like it's going out of style. She watches, almost hungrily, as he leans towards the mirror, applying one thick line of black under his right eye. He'd asked to borrow her eyeliner earlier, having left his own at home. He'd winked when he'd asked, a roguish tilt lifting the corner of his mouth as her breath stuttered painfully in her chest.

He's such a fucking tease, she thinks.

These moments are still so new to her, to them. These teasing moments, these flirty intimate moments that make her skin tingle with happiness. Sure, they've been dating for weeks now, but there's been so many interruptions and complications, so much heartache that she hasn't had a chance to learn how to do these mundane, coupley things yet. Like borrow each others eyeliner, for example.

Seriously, it's only been since last night that they'd finally taken that massive next step and she's finding the whole morning after experience a bit surreal; wonderful, marvelous, _amazing_, but surreal, none the less.

Killian seems to have adapted to this turn of events easily, per usual. That was one of her favorite things about him, his ability to adapt. He doesn't seem fazed in the slightest bit about their new intimacy, which would explain why he's standing half-naked in her bathroom, applying eyeliner with gusto.

Emma is staring, mouth gaping open as her eyes wander over the expanse of male flesh currently on display. He's definitely been holding out on her, keeping himself covered up with those layers of leather, she thinks as she takes in the way his biceps flex as he moves. Her eyes flick to the mirror, where she can see his chest and stomach, watching as the muscles she finds there ripple with each of his fluid movements.

She likes this, she has to admit. She can stare to her heart's content, although she knows that she's just helping to swell his already inflated ego the longer she looks. But she doesn't really mind because now she knows that his ego is _so_ warranted.

Last night had been, without a doubt, the best sex she's ever had. Granted, she doesn't have a ton to compare it with, but she could barely walk straight this morning, her legs absolute jello even hours later. The man was _talented_.

Not paying attention to much else but the dark line of hair that trails down into his unbuttoned jeans, she inadvertently squeezes the bottle of lotion in her hand. A stream of lotion squirts quickly out of the container, landing across the thigh of her outstretched leg.

"Damn." She curses, staring in dismay at the mess she's made. Killian turns and smirks at her from his spot in front of the mirror.

"Problem, Swan?" He asks, then turns back to his reflection, inspecting the black line he'd drawn under his eye.

She never would've expected that watching a guy put on his make-up was sexy, but watching this particular guy do it has her absolutely aching. The lighting above the sink highlights all the angles of his perfect face and his eyes are so clear and blue that it's doing weird things to her stomach. She can't help the almost teenage obsessed sigh that slips from her mouth at the sight. No one should look that gorgeous first thing in the morning, she thinks as she bites in lip in hungry contemplation.

She's still staring when he turns back to look at her again, a devilish smirk appearing when he catches her with her mouth hanging open. He crosses his arms over his chest, propping his hip against the sink as his eyebrow rises halfway up his forehead.

"See something you like, love?" He literally purrs at her, his grin turning smug.

It's infuriating how he can turn her on with just his voice and a sexy smile. It's even more infuriating when his smile widens as she gapes up at him, gulping for air like a fish out of water. That smile says so much, says he _knows_ that tingles of desire are now pulsing between her thighs from just hearing his voice.

He's definitely fucking teasing her, she thinks.

The way she sees it, she has two choices in this moment: she can roll her eyes and say something snarky in response, per usual OR she can give into the rush of heat that had taken over her body the instant he'd walked into the bathroom. How does she play this out now that they've actually crossed the line into an adult relationship? Does she keep the flirting going, teasing back in her own right or does she stand up and kiss him, giving into her desire?

God, she isn't good at this, isn't good at being in a _relationship_. Usually, this was the point where she'd kick the guy out, telling him it was "nice" and that she'd had "a good time", that she'd "definitely call." What does she do now that she's falling head over heels in love with the guy and can't bear the thought of never touching him again?

She settles for slapping the lid of the lotion bottle closed against her leg, shrugging noncommittally in his direction. Setting the container aside, she looks up at him, taking in the way his gaze lingers on the rise of her breasts at the edge of her towel and then down along the bare length of her legs.

She watches as an absolutely hungry look comes over his face, her heart racing at the way his tongue slides slowly along his bottom lip as if he can taste her there. Had it only been last night that she'd learned all the amazing things that he could do with that tongue? She's instantly aching at the memory of his head between her thighs. When he finally looks back up, she knows he can see the flush on her cheeks, knows that he can see her desire written plainly in her eyes.

There's a beat, a pause, where she finds it hard to breathe under the scrutiny of his gaze and then he's hunkering down in front of her, the eyeliner tube forgotten on the edge of the sink. Her legs open wide enough for him to perch between them, his hand on the top of her thigh as he balances before her.

She grins as she notices that he hadn't finished applying his eyeliner. He looks a little lop-sided, although it doesn't detract from his looks at all.

"You forgot an eye." She says softly, bringing her fingertips to his prickly jaw, remembering the scratchy burn of his beard as he'd kissed up her legs, hovering over her sex before pressing heated kisses into her weeping flesh.

"It'll keep." He says back to her, just as softly. He quirks a brow at her and then grins as he stares down at the lotion on her leg. "That lotion, though, love, that needs immediate attention."

He brings his hand over to her thigh, placing his damaged wrist on the outside of her leg to help keep his balance. He pauses there for a moment, staring up into her face as he trails his fingers slowly up her thigh to where the edge of her towel lies.

"Don't want to get any lotion on this, love. I'll just move it up and out of the way." He murmurs, brushing it up to the very tops of her thighs. She giggles as he tickles the sensitive flesh there and she's instantly desperate for him to slide his hand up a little further between her legs. His eyes flick back up to hers, his smile widening at the sound of her laugh. "Ticklish, are we, Swan?"

"Not saying." She replies defiantly, arching a brow in challenge to him. He considers her for a moment then grins wider before looking back down to her leg. He's focused on his original task, his fingers gliding gently over her thigh and down to the trail of creamy lotion. He smears it along the top of her thigh, his palm warm and his touch strong against her skin.

"You're going to smell like vanilla." She warns him, biting her lip as he begins to massage her leg, his fingers kneading her tense muscles.

"I don't mind. It'll remind me of you." He responds, saying it so matter of fact that she knows he means it; he's not just saying it to flirt or turn her head. Her heart throbs at the realization, almost jumping out of her chest with happiness and she can't help the silly grin that breaks across her face.

Killian continues to massage the lotion into her skin, moving methodically down to her knee and then her calf. He keeps his damaged wrist against her outer thigh, holding her in place as he works. When he's covered ever inch of her lower leg, he slides his warm palm up the back of her leg, grinning when she twitches as he tickles the back of her knee.

There's just enough lotion left for him to smooth across the top of her thigh, his fingers coming extremely close to the seam where her leg meets her hip. She bites her lip as she watches his fingers move so close to her sex. She simply can't help the way her legs fall open just a little bit more in happy anticipation of his touch. A shaky breath leaves her when he looks up and catches her watching him, his eyes such a deep blue she feels like she's looking into a raging storm.

He keeps his gaze trained on hers as he moves his hand down along the inside of her thigh, the backs of his fingers brushing casually against her folds. She's finding it so hard to breathe as he watches her, observing all of her tells as he teases her so cruelly. Her legs are trembling under his warm palm now, her thighs tensed so tightly that they ache.

He brings his hand back up, brushing softly against her mound again, and when he finally stills his hand along the top of her thigh, she bites back a groan of disappointment. He's come so close to touching her, so close to giving her some relief from the relentless ache throbbing through her, but damn him, he chooses to continue to tease her instead.

Asshole, she thinks.

He settles back on his heels for a moment, his gaze moving slowly up from her mouth to merge with hers. She can feel the air around them crackle with electricity, her body leaning towards his almost against her will. She wants to taste him again, wants his wicked tongue moving along hers as her fingers scratch against the hard planes of his chest. She wants to feel him inside her, deep and throbbing, driving her slowly insane with his every touch.

She wants him. And he knows it, the _jerk_.

Then he's moving slowly towards her and she's instantly sliding closer to the edge of the tub, her hands coming up to rest on his biceps. He pauses with his mouth hovering above her lips. She sucks in a breath, almost sobbing for the touch of his mouth to hers, her fingers digging into the hard flesh of his arms. Then, he simply moves to her left, turning his head as he reaches over to grab the container of lotion. It slips a bit in his grasp and he turns back, holding out the bottle to her. She stares at him in confusion, struggling against the haze of desire that's obscuring her vision and her thoughts.

"Can't forget the other leg, can we, Swan?" He murmurs, smirking at the way she blinks up at him in muddled confusion.

Tease me, fuck me, _kill me_, she thinks as she stares into his twinkling blue eyes.

She's finally able to tear her gaze away from his to grab the bottle of lotion, irked beyond belief. She squirts it quickly onto her other leg, capping the container and tossing it heedlessly over her shoulder. It clatters as it hits the bottom of the tub, but she doesn't give a shit. She's sliding as close to him as she can get now, her ass on the very edge of the tub. If she moves any closer, she'll be sitting in his lap, which definitely had it's merits. She wants more of him, more of his touch, and she doesn't care how absolutely wanton she appears to him, as long as he touches her again.

His smirk grows larger as he settles back between her thighs, his hand slick as he begins to smooth the lotion into this leg as well. He's brought his right wrist up to settle on the inside of her thigh, so close to her throbbing center that she swallows back a moan of longing. He doesn't move any closer to her folds, just holds her thigh in place with the rough end of his arm.

He follows the same process as the previous leg, moving down and over her kneecap to her calf, where he spends time massaging the tense muscles there. When he begins to make his way back up her leg, he pauses with his hand behind her knee, leaning forward to press a sweetly chaste kiss to her kneecap. His hand then continues up the back of her leg, his fingers moving so softly against her that she actually squirms in torment as he tickles her.

Sliding his hand up to the top of her thigh, his fingers trail along the seam of her leg as he contemplates her. Since he'd pushed the towel up so high, she knows that he can see her bare mound peeking out between her splayed legs. She watches as he licks his lips hungrily and her legs widen even more under his gaze. Her heart is racing as he looks at her, beating so fast that she's finding it hard to breathe.

She just wants him to lean forward already and take her with his mouth. Her thighs are trembling, her stomach clenching in anticipation of his kiss. She's warm, her cheeks flushing with a heat that has nothing to do with the steamy temperature of the room.

He looks back up at her, his eyes focusing again on her lips before sliding up to her eyes. Smiling, he leans forward and presses a quick kiss to her lips before standing, moving back over to the sink as she sits on the edge of the tub, literally panting in aggravated surprise.

"What are you doing?" She's able to gasp out, gaping over at him. He smirks over his shoulder before turning back to appraise his reflection in the mirror.

"I forgot an eye, remember?" He responds, reaching down to pick up the tube of eyeliner from where he'd left it. He swiftly drops it, the grease from the lotion making his hands slippery. He tries to pick it up again, but it slips right back out of his fingers. He frowns down at the tube, trying to rub some of the lotion off on his pants, but the slick material repels the lotion instead of soaking any up.

Emma laughs out loud at the sight. Oh, he thought was being so smooth, she thinks, smirking as he glares over at her. Justice, however small, is definitely sweet!

"Yes, deeply amusing, Swan." He huffs as she continues to giggle. He tries once more to hold the eyeliner between his fingers, growling when it clatters into the sink basin. He turns to her, a pleading puppy dog look on his face as he asks, "Little help?"

She laughs for another couple of seconds before standing. Pushing against his shoulder so that he moves out of her way, she jumps up to sit on the edge of the sink, grabbing his hips to steady herself, pulling him between her thighs as she settles. She presses her knees against either side of his body, holding him in place as she picks up the tube of eyeliner.

She has to wipe the tube against her towel to remove the lotion before she can actually hold on to it. Killian watches her, settling his hand against her upper thigh as she removes the top to the container.

"I was merely hoping you would help clean my hands, Swan. I'm fully capable of applying the liner myself."

"Don't trust me?" She teases.

"I trust you." He responds quickly, the words following almost on top of her question. She pauses, searching his eyes and seeing an earnestness and boyish sincerity on his face that she's quickly coming to love. She wonders, not for the first time, what she's ever done in her life to earn such trust and emotion from him.

She smiles at him, not quite knowing how to respond to such devotion. She swallows over the sudden lump in her throat, reaching up to cup his warm cheek in her palm, loving how easy it is to be with him like this. She's close enough to smell the mint of his toothpaste as his breath wafts over her face. If she just leans forward a couple of inches more, she'll be able to press her lips to his and _taste_ the mint. She holds back, though, wanting to show him that he isn't the only one who can be a merciless tease.

"Don't move." She whispers, sliding her hand down to grasp his chin in her fingers. "Look up." She commands next, the tube of eyeliner held loosely in her hand. He obeys, staring up at the ceiling as she begins to apply the eyeliner.

She doesn't normally wear this stuff, not having the patience to apply it, so she's a bit out of practice. Thankfully, her hands are steady and he's patient as she follows the line of his bottom lid from corner to corner, leaving a trail of black behind.

When she's finished, she pulls back to inspect her handiwork.

"Well?" He asks as she scrutinizes him.

"I think I have to darken the other side now. You're uneven." He looks back up, leaning towards her as she holds his chin again. She repeats the process on the other side, only doing one swipe with the eyeliner since he'd already applied some. She pulls back when finished, releasing his chin and double checking the overall effect.

"Perfect."

"I know." He responds easily, the quip making her snort and roll her eyes in response.

"Take a look." She tells him, moving so he can lean around her and look at his reflection. He turns his head this way and that before nodding to confirm that the results were as desired.

"Not bad, Swan. Now, what about you?" He asks, quirking an eyebrow in her direction.

"What?" She asks him, completely surprised. He grabs the tube of eyeliner from where she'd set it on the sink edge. His fingers are no longer slick, so he's able to grab and hold on this time.

Waiving it in front of her face, he winks at her before asking, "Trust me?"

"Always." She responds quickly, the answer on her lips before he's even finished asking the question. She suddenly understands how it was so easy for him to respond to her question. She's never been so sure of anything, _anyone, _in her life.

Killian steps closer to her, his hand sliding up from her thigh to her waist. He pulls her even closer to the edge of the sink, her towel bunching up around her hips. When she finally stops, he's nestled tight between her thighs, the zipper of his jeans pressing delightfully against her folds.

"Look up and don't move." He orders her. Having only one hand, he can't hold her chin in place as she'd done for him. She tries to hold as still as possible, looking up and counting the tiles in the ceiling as he works. He's swift with the eyeliner, having much more experience at applying it than she does, his movements efficient and precise.

She smells the vanilla on his hands as he works, his body radiating warmth against her as he presses intimately into her. He's aligned so perfectly between her thighs that each of his movements causes his jeans to brush roughly against her folds. By the time he's finished, she's halfway to an orgasm, her clit throbbing for him.

He steps back enough to check his work, dropping the eyeliner onto the edge of the sink again. He nods to the mirror behind her, grinning smugly as he says, "Take a look, Swan."

He lets her slide off the sink, moving quickly to press against her back once she's facing the mirror. His hand settles on her hip, holding her in place as she inspects his work. He'd been subtle with the eyeliner, adding just enough to enhance her eyes, but not enough for it to be obvious that she was wearing anything.

He watches her for a moment, before setting his chin on her shoulder, smiling at her in the mirror.

"Well?" He asks expectantly.

"It looks good. You definitely know what you're doing with that thing." His grin widens.

"I've had many a year to perfect my _technique_." He drops his voice suggestively, the unmistakable innuendo in his words causing her to giggle. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he pulls her tighter into his chest, hugging her against him. That's when she feels him hard and insistent, throbbing marvelously against her ass and she realizes that all his teasing has gotten to him, too.

Then, as she watches, he brings his mouth to her neck. Keeping his eyes glued to hers in the mirror, he watches her as he presses a hot, open mouthed kiss to her skin. She feels the press of his tongue against her, sliding along the tendon of her neck and she hears his soft groan as he tastes her.

She grips the edge of the sink in her hands, pressing back against him and wiggling to try to ease some of the ache that's humming so deeply within her. He groans louder at the friction she's creating with the simple movement. His eyes close as he sucks at her flesh, biting down gently when she brings her hand to the back of his head to hold him in place. His mouth is slick and hot, his tongue sliding against her wonderfully.

Soon, he's inching his hand down towards the apex of her thighs and she quickly widens her stance for him. His hand stills for a moment just above her mound and she grabs his wrist, pushing him down to where she needs him.

"Please." She begs, noting how absolutely wrecked she sounds. He opens his eyes then, catching her desperate gaze in the mirror. His mouth is dark red and glistening, his tongue sliding along his full bottom lip as if he can still taste her. There's a terrible moment when she thinks he's going to keep teasing her, one agonizing moment where the tension rolls between them.

Please, she begs him in her thoughts, don't tease me any more. I _need _you.

He takes mercy on her, his hand sliding easily between her legs, his middle finger dipping between her swollen folds. She sighs when he finds her clit, circling it slowly, his eyes on her as he watches her reactions in the mirror. She can't keep her head up any longer, her eyes closing as she drops her head onto his shoulder.

Long blissful moments follow, his fingers playing along her slick sex as he watches her. He presses little kisses into her neck, biting her earlobe and whispering breathy encouragements to her. She can't help but rock back against him, feeling his hard length pressing so delightfully against her backside. She sighs when he slides his finger easily into her body, his thumb continuing to flick against her clit as he fucks her.

"So beautiful." He whispers and she opens her eyes to watch him in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright and feverish. She can't help the shudder that runs through her at the look of complete awe that's on his face, a soft smile dancing across his lips as he touches her so intimately.

He's pressing against her, into her, his damaged arm holding her tight as his hand plays between her legs. She can't help the way her hips begin to move urgently against his hand, loving the pressure of his finger inside her, loving the texture of his calloused finger on her clit. She's moaning with abandon as she rides his hand, enjoying how the ridge of his cock digs into her ass as she moves with him.

"That's it, love." He encourages her, groaning as she becomes frantic. She turns her head to his and he's kissing her, the taste of mint overwhelming her senses. A few more thrusts up into her body and she's clenching with her release, her body tightening wonderfully around him.

She's moaning into his mouth as she rides of the wave of her orgasm, loving the way he wraps his damaged arm tighter around her body, holding her as she shakes her way through her release. She gasping by the time it's over, her legs trembling as she sags against the sink. He holds her, pressing into her back as he kisses along her neck and tells her again how beautiful she is.

When she's a little more stable, he turns her in his arms, reaching up to brush strands of her hair off her forehead. He kisses her again, his lips moving so fluidly against hers that it's absolutely sinful. He pulls away so she can breathe, her forehead dropping to his shoulder as he holds her to him.

"I meant what I said, you know." He whispers.

"Hmm?" She asks, not quite sure what he's referring to.

"You're beautiful, Emma." She stills against him, her hands holding onto his waist, his skin so warm under her palms. She can hear the sincerity in his voice and her heart swells at the sound. There've been so many times in her life when men have told her that she's beautiful, but the words never sounded more heartfelt than when Killian Jones says them to her.

She blinks away the sudden tears in her eyes, pulling up her head so she can gaze into his face. She's never seen anything quite as beautiful as him, staring at her as if she's hung the moon and stars.

"Thank you. For the compliment and the orgasm." She whispers, smiling wistfully up at him.

He tips his head back, a loud laugh bursting from his chest. She can't help but join him, giggling as his laugh fills the bathroom, echoing pleasantly off the walls around them.

"You are most welcome, my dear." He finally says, bopping her nose with his finger before wrapping her in his arms again.

She loves his hugs. They're so warm and they make her feel so protected, so feminine. She nestles closer to him, wanting to burrow herself under his skin. Pressing her head into the space between his jaw and neck, she kisses his pulse softly, slowly, tasting the salt of his skin.

He shifts against her and she can feel him, still hard and wanting. Sliding her hand down his chest, her fingers trail in his dark chest hair and then over the hard planes of his stomach. He tenses under her palm, reaching down to grab her wrist and stop her before she can follow the trail of hair down, down, down.

She pulls back, confusion bringing her brows down as she stares up at him.

"There's no need, love." He says softly.

"But I want to." God, she's practically whining and he smiles, releasing her hand and bringing his own up to cup her check, thumb trailing along her bottom lip. His touch is so gentle, so soft, and before long, his mouth is on hers again, the silky heat of him causing her toes to curl. When he pulls slowly back, there's such a look of giddy joy on his face that she can't help but grin at him in response.

"What?" She asks, her lips stretching almost painfully as she beams at him.

"It was _my_ pleasure, love, giving _you _pleasure. There's nothing like watching a beautiful woman come undone." She blushes at that, causing his grin to expand further on his face, his dimples popping out deliciously. Then he's brushing his fingers against her blush, pressing his fingertips into the freckles that dot her cheeks. "I meant what I said, Emma. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe me."

"Thank you." She whispers again, leaning up to press another kiss to his mouth.

She could get used to this, she thinks as he wraps her up in another tight hug, his nose bumping sweetly against hers. The man may be a tease, but he sure as hell delivers.

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><p><em>Reviews are like chocolate chip cookies; the more you have, the more you want. <em>**_Hook _**_me up, lovelies! _


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